Best Whined Poems
“The
children
are always
interrupting.
You never have time
for me,” her husband whined
as he dropped his dirty clothes
right there on the floor by the bed.
Trying not to roll her eyes, she gave
this quick response to her disgruntled spouse:
“The kids, chores and mishaps have me spinning,
and you tell me you feel rejected.
To have a blissful home takes two.
Consideration is key.
I’m also missing you!
To be successful
in our bed, take
time OUT of
it. . . for
ME!”
A Double Etheree written May 27, 2012
for David Williams'
The Three H's Poetry Contest
My Saddest Day(A Dog Gone Tableau)
I Had to leave him
(though he yapped and whined)
at the adoption drop off,
(I still loved him so)
with folks that I'd entrusted
(he was my dear friend)
with his safe keeping.
(He'd turned old and blind)
His mournful howl followed me
(when we let him go.)
as i exited the door
(How can my heart mend?)
My two poems for the Intermingle Contest of Craig Cornish:
My Saddest Day, written a while earlier than actually posted on 9/21/2014
& A Dog Gone Tableau, posted 10/17/2014 a few days after I wrote it.
By Andrea Dietrich
(The idea for what to use was inspired by my wonderful friend, Harry Horsman)
Though Santa never responded to pleas
There was just one gift on my list each year
A horse that could run at the speed of light
A bold little gal; I never had fear
With two high school friends I visited a ranch
To ride in 103-degree heat
Through the bramble bushes and prickly pears
Upon little “Misty” I took my seat
The Mustang Adoption Program’s success
Sparked ranchers from Tucson, Arizona
To give a home to a rust-colored mare
Many miles from my home near Daytona
Cryptic white markings graced Misty’s neck
Looked like words in Native American code
“She’s so small,” I whined, seeking to ride fast
But no matter, to the desert we rode
Even the roadrunners were envious
When Misty gained speed and hit her full stride
Warp speed! I clung to the saddle horn
As Misty passed larger horses with pride
My hat fell on a cactus, sweat filled my eyes
My life flashed before me, quite a surprise
It seemed like she had wings as we flew
Don’t be quick to judge a horse by its size
I thank Misty often for the ride she gave me
She fulfilled my dream and gave me a thrill
But on the news today a reporter said
Wild horses would now be rounded up and killed
I’m so grateful I had the chance to ride
A wild horse with spirit and awesome speed
But what will become of her ancestors
Misty’s now part of a vanishing breed
*For Frank's "One Standout Day" contest
by Carolyn Devonshire
“You become responsible forever for what you’ve tamed.”
from Antoine de Saint-Exupéry’s The Little Prince
Though he yapped and whined,
I still loved him so.
He was my dear friend.
He'd turned old and blind
when we let him go.
How can my heart mend?
Written 10/15/14 by Andrea Dietrich
For the Design Your Tableau Contest of nette onclaud
With spring approaching quickly and milk is upon the rise,
our factory employs seasonal workers to resize,
the employee pool to accommodate the milk intake,
which means twenty-four by seven with such a lot at stake.
The milk dryer needed packers and more cleaners on the floor.
There’s a need for extra lab staff, truck drivers, and some more,
‘til with most positions filled, except one so it did seem.
The warehouse needs another forklift driver for the team.
Mick our production manager had from two nominees to pick.
But must consider who was better; which one will do the trick,
so in my control room we met to show me their régimes,
and both of them were similar so had to find another way.
Bjorn was Norwegian who is back packing for a year,
while Murphy is an Irishman who has settled very near.
And to try and solve the puzzle on who we think may be best,
we came to a conclusion they should take a written test.
So Mick prepared for both a twenty question simple quiz,
hoping this would prove that one, is a better fork lift whiz.
Mick sat them inside his office where he could watch the pair,
as they gave answers to this company’s questionnaire.
It’s never pretty telling folks they miss out on being hired.
They can get very angry once they know they’re not required.
I was ushered to the office once a decision’s made.
The losing candidate was Murphy and he was quite dismayed.
Mick explained to Muphy that from twenty questions asked.
“Bjorn and you got nineteen right with the answers you both caste”.
“Why did I lose?” Murphy whined. “It’s a case of being biased,
seeing we got nineteen right; one more would be the highest”.
“That’s your problem Murphy. The question you got wrong was eight,
and after reading both your answers, here’s what sealed your fate”.
Mick gave an explanation looking Murphy in the eye,
“Bjorn’s answer was ‘I don’t know’ - and you wrote ‘neither do I”.
it like you care
i mean if you keep on
keeping on
i might whined-up thinking you
love me or something
I mean kissing and dance
getting those second glances
and the notes on my phone
I might whined-up thinking
you love me.
sometimes I think about
the way you might preseve me
and than I wonder if
I should look at you the same way
smelling your hair
acting like you care
it makes me wonder
asking myself what spell am I under
You got me thinking you
love me
A slight hint of consternation was in her voice,
“Why did you tell those people I’m deaf and dumb?”
“I never said you were deaf, my Dear.”
She laughed, but I kinda felt like a bum.
Hell. It was just a joke.
One evening, she asked, “Will you love me if I get chubby?”
I responded, “Of course I still love you.
It would take much more than pounds and cellulite
To make me fall out of love…it’s true.”
Hell. It was just a joke.
“Would you remarry if I die before you?” she asked.
I said, “No…probably not…I’ve been spoiled by you.”
“But you’ve been a great husband. I think you should.”
“Whatever happens, happens is the best I can do.”
“If you remarried, would you play golf with your new wife?
And would you let her use my clubs?” she demanded.
I calmly smiled and said, “Your clubs are safe.
You see, my Dear…she’s left handed.”
Hell. It was just a joke.
Then, she whined and whined about her butt.
I responded, “Want to knock some inches off that ass?
It may sound strange, but I heard it works….
Rinse all your panties in Slim Fast.”
Hell. It was just a joke.
The next day, I readied for work, took ‘undies’ from my drawer.
They were engulfed in a fog of white, why I didn’t know.
So, I asked, “Honey! Why did you put talcum powder on my shorts?”
She slyly smiled, “That’s not talcum powder. That’s Miracle Gro.”
Hell. It was just a joke....I guess.
So, what is my wife’s most endearing feature?
Her sense of humor.... there’s no doubt.
Always a smile where angst or anger might have been,
A smile I never want to be without.
There was a little dog one day,
Who ambled on his aimless way.
He didn't have a house or home:
A doggy bed or fine meat bone.
His coat was mats and full of fleas.
He owned no boy to try and please.
Near garbage bin was where he sat,
Along with one sad, homeless cat.
His human threw him out you see.
This person wasn't you or me.
For we would never be so cruel,
Or act like some poor, heartless fool.
The winter came and with it cold.
Dog's airy ways were put on hold.
He shivered in the dark of night:
A sad, pathetic, needy sight.
And then a storm blew in with snow.
It left dog with no place to go.
He sat and whined beside the road,
For someone kind to lift his load.
Then came a car -- slow passing by.
A young boy warm and loved inside.
He saw the freezing, half grown pup
And begged they stop and pick him up.
The winter passed and next the spring.
Now please behold a wondrous thing.
A boy and dog romp on the grass.
All mats and fleas now in the past.
It's joy and love and fun we see.
The way that God meant it should be.
Both run and play, all pain now past;
This bond of dog and boy shall last.
The sad thing is allotted time
Of man and dog will just not rhyme.
The boy will know sad loss of friend,
Long years before his own sure end.
Then in a time that's yet to be,
They'll reunite both young and free.
Forever will their bond go on,
In timeless sunsets, countless dawns.
© 2015 Diane Lefebvre
~ Grandfather's Clock ~
My old grandfather had a clock
It wasn’t a grandfather clock
A clock it was that went tick tock
It sent me mad grandfather’s clock
Till once I hit it with a wok
But it was steady as a rock
And then it laughed and said cuckoo
A little bird went out and in
It said cuckoo bee bow and boo
Then I took aim and threw my shoe
It ran in fast and closed the door
Of old grandfather’s cuckoo clock
I had enough of all its cheek
I had it planned to glue its beak
So then I sat on wooden floor
And waited there, looked at the clock
Grandfather’s clock that went tick tock
I sat there long and fell asleep
Then I woke up and had a peep
Grandfather’s clock was under shock
It was tongue tied, not one tick tock
It hung in silence on the wall
There were no echoes in the hall
How strange it felt now that the clock
Had lost its voice, no tick no tock
The little bird made not a sound
No sortie out, no bee no boo
I missed that tiny red cuckoo.
Like a spoilt brat I'd moaned and whined
The way I acted was unkind!
Then I sat down, felt bad inside
I was ashamed. I cried and cried!
As my tears fell I heard tick tock
The friendly sound of grandpa's clock
To cap it all the red bird flew
out of the door and said cuckoo!
---------------------------------------------
Contest: Childrens Story, Dr. Seuss Style
Sponsor: Casarah Nance aided by Abigail
Bugger
17th July 2015
Last night my missus gave me some oysters for tea
Was I in for a night of rip snorting whoopee?
I showered and shaved trying to smell like a stud
Her half dozen oysters must have all of been duds.
Things were desperate so I engaged in foreplay
What old men do when they want a roll in the hay
I groveled I pleaded, even whined like a dog
But for all of my efforts all I got was a snog.
So should she ever give me a little blue pill
I now know it sure won’t be for an evening of thrill.
Her response
So you’re disappointed
That all you got was just a snog
How about make an effort
Stop smelling like grog
I don’t care for begging,
And sexual wee stirrings
Have a shave and a shower,
That'll start me concurring.
Now take your hand off my breast,
Just help me cook the kids tea
Grab the vacuum, do the house,
That’ll be enough foreplay for me
Hang out the washing,
Then feed the pets.
Do homework with the kids
Please now go make the beds,
Scrub all the pots,
Make sure you do the lids
Thank you my dear,
Your help was just great,
It's nice just not to nag
What! What do you mean?
You’re too tired for a shag?
28th September
Silent One's Competition
In response to my first poem
A funny thing happened on the way to the john,
I rounded a bend and there sat my young son
Who whined and fussed to be picked up and nursed
So I had to oblige though I quietly cursed.
I continued my quest for some bladder relief
Whilst feeding my baby, supreme mother and chief
When I passed the front door, boob out, zipper down
And there stood our pastor, with an uncomfortable frown.
I tucked and I zipped, then red-faced I said, “Hi.”
He said, “I just stopped for your donated pie.”
Baby under one arm, I retrieved the said pie
And proudly returned with baked good held up high.
But the baby was squirmy and sun in my eyes
So I tripped on the dog, who is almost my size
And that’s when I found out that cherry pie flies
Right into the face of the good Reverend Wise.
Which was not a bad thing, and I do not jest
Because my little boy had pulled out my breast!
And my bladder gave up, the poor little fellow,
As I landed and sat in a puddle of yellow!
So I never did make it to the bathroom that trip
And I had to make up to our poor puppy Skip.
My son, just like always, got his milk and his way
And my husband and I became Jewish that day!
An old gal applied to join Mensa
Gee she couldn’t be any denser
She went in the wrong door
On the thirty third floor
And there she enrolled as a fencer
When attending her first fencing class
A man scored a hit on her huge ass
She screamed out so loud
It drew quite a crowd
She cannot abide failure – its crass!
WRITTEN BY JAN ALLISON
She hollered and screamed for a medic
I swear it was worse than a dead duck
one without any wings
oh the horror she sings
she's much more than dense she's pathetic
WRITTEN BY TIM SMITH
She swore that she really could spell
And in math she did surely excel
But once she felt pain
All she did was complain
And whined as her sore butt did swell.
WRITTEN BY CHRIS GREEN
That old gal then became a method actor
but one thing soon became a huge factor
she forgot all her lines
her mentality declines
now she sputters like a John Deere tractor
WRITTEN BY LIN LANE
Her butt was so sore she bought leeches
Gently placing them in her breeches
To suck out the bruise
We could hear her oooh's
I felt sorry for the poor creatures
Her butt was so big like a whale
all that was missing was it's tail
so they stuck a flag up her ****
called it the new Khyber pass
she went a whiter shade of pale.
WRITTEN BY SEREN ROBERTS
"Am I smart?" is what she kept asking
In glory she hoped to be basking.
Suddenly she farted.
The whole room departed.
Now finding fresh air is their tasking.
WRITTEN BY DALE GREGORY COZART
She sat for the test with all smiles
Filled out the forms and the files
But she spelled her name wrong
Became twisted of tongue
And was thrown to the crocodiles.
WRITTEN BY RICHARD D SEAL
07-17-17
Seems the old gal was a talented tart
Clearing the room with but one single fart
Wiping their eyes
All those wise guys
Soundly applauded her flatulent art
WRITTEN BY LIM'RIK FLATS
07-18-17
My boyfriend was agitated
Because I was constipated
We'd be late for the game
Of course I was to blame
My butt hole's not dialated
On and on he whined and waited
Use of laxatives, debated
In my gut it was stuck
I could smell it... oh yuck
Boyfriend getting more frustrated
I could hear the game on the phone
I said, "Go. Just leave me alone!"
But he didn't hear me
His team was up by three
Stomach hurt, I let out a moan
Half hour later, he was snoring
I guess the game must be boring
I still sat on the can
Cursing my boyfriend, Dan
Who was no longer adoring.
After being lubricated
I sighed at being elated
Although my butt was sore
I had to poop no more
My bowels had been vacated
I found Dan's note and shook my head
"I had to poop, so went home instead
of waiting for you, Sue.
After this, we are through!"
That's exactly what his note said.
I felt relief, more ways than one
Happy that Dan and I were done
Now I can be alone
When sitting on my throne
No one shouting, "Hurry up, Hun!!"
At the door to my trembling heart He cried:
‘Go in search of the lost souls one can find,
and you are charged to forever abide
by the tenet of Love for all Mankind.’
To obey was not easy, but I tried;
lesson as precious as a golden hind.
Navigating the seas from the blind side,
no one wished to come willingly and whined.
But as the world’s troubles tested one’s pride,
it’s understandable to lose your mind.
This was not the time to let morals slide,
or forget the agreements in blood signed.
‘Greatest blessings come to us through madness
when it is sent as a gift of the gods.’*
Scarecrow Addict
Gritted and dusty
Powered by flack jacket eyes
Bootsteps through grey puddles
Flotilla of cigarette butts
Trash kicked aside
In a desert of litter
Seeking the soulless of death
Chattering on split lips
The grimy irk of air
Festoons the rink and rack
The floating black
Sucks unbidden
Horses into battle ridden
Scream through his lungs
Broken weapons
Filled with empty bullets
Enemies in their colours run
Demon angel
Of the iridescent metal
In the bars of sculptured hell
For the hot choke of alcohol
Has squandered his nights
And burnt his will
The vengeance of mirrors
He cannot defy
He has become
The man with the gun
And rabid dog bark
Is the music
The fang gangster rap
Chews on his pride
Coughs back and spits
Too many drugs
To fill his hate
As he seethes through the alleys
The ricochet sound of poverty
Slaps hard at the cold
Whistle through the doorstep
The vicious snide crack
Scavenges his chest
Scarecrow buckshot
Trammels his lungs
And coughs up plastic
Iron girders against shattered walls
Where the whole world threw up
His sick
Chokes on the disgusting chuck up
Of need
So full of promises
But still lets in the freezing winds
To whined up urine stained
In the pallor
The colour
Of his sky
Bandit warrior and loser
This brave young man
Watched this driven and ploughed memory
Eat away
By iron vice drag
Devastate his pale haired wench
Leaving blood trailing on her breast
Pimped
She was
And hate in grey battered uniforms
Drove the callous on
And lifted him from the reeking cans
Of his desolation
Bled him through nights of sweat
And cold turkey chewed regret
The plaster wet billboard and pealing advert
Have no idea
What they have unleashed
Brittle as long dead bones
And screaming head
No longer hates
But still sneers revenge
In tattered loose rags
He staggers from the vomiting pit
Emaciated wolf
The grinning scarecrow eyes of merciless
And the jagged teeth of candle lit
The reek of vendetta
Hangs ever about his lips
And woe betide the gun smith
Woe betide indeed the needles
Wet prick
Nothing left to fight for
Other than
A long dead
Lover