Best Wit Poems
I am of soft, delicate skinned casing,
Housing an iron, logical facing.
I grant my femininity free reign
To follow dictates of my manlike brain.
My seductive charms can attract a man,
But he may run far once I show my hand.
My quick, mental wit delivered deadpan
Cannot be handled by males with no span.
Only those of equal mental process
Will see my smile and know any access.
Feelings don’t phase my skill to analyze,
Even when I flash my come-hither eyes.
I don’t have masculine strength or muscle,
But in games deductive, I can tussle.
Call me feminine, demure or girly,
Such true adjectives won’t find me surly.
Color my world with sheer lace all pearly,
Just remember my sharp brain is burly.
The Wit of Twain
I recollect, Pa always used to say
There is no pay if you don’t stop your play
Maybe figured I'd learned
Knowledge not given but earned
Life is a success if you don’t delay
© 6/20/2015
Mark Twain Quote:*The secret of getting ahead is getting started.
Contest Name: Write with the Wit of Twain
Sponsor: Andrea Dietrich
BREVITY – the soul of wit
One was red, one was blue
the pair - a sneaker and a shoe
so he laughed as he retold
the story given him by mother
that his brother wore the other.
John G. Lawless
7/7/2015
submitted to – Brevity – The Short Of It – poetry contest
sponsor – Casarah Nance
A sprinkle of wit
a dash of gravitas
Not too precise
idle your abacus
A pinch of clarity
to seek the cavity
Where truth seeps in
where daylight dawns
Well is it a wonder
That I like to
Crochet
And purl
After all I am a writer
and have always enjoyed a good yarn
The rhyming, the rhythm
The soft sigh of wool against
The needles
So right
Tight
Loosen my grip
On life
On reality
On nothing
Spinning that into something
And feeling the stress slip away
Thanks so much Mandy,
What more can I say?
in as much as men are made like God
there is one unforgivable sin
and that is eating the fruit
of the knowledge of good and evil
A many talks I have
a phone chats with mom and dad
Facebooking my friends
Long after dinner time
And if I really think about communication
the old fashion way
I call them upon my land-line
What's a land-line
And what ever happen to Northeastern Bell
well
that's how we talk to each other human to human
But when I wake up in the new day
I fall on my knees
and chat wit God as I pray
Oh! I fall on my knees
and have a chat wit God as I pray
What's the matter, got all this chatter on Twitter
Space chat is what's up, what is that
Does any one Email any more
And what is a phone booth
And does anyone remember Mother Goose
Facebooking my friends
Long after dinner time
And if I really think about communication
the old fashion way
I call them upon my land-line
What's a land-line
And what ever happen to Northeastern Bell
well
I Snap chat, Google and Verizon, Teen Mobile CenturyLink
All this downloading and less and or no praying
now before you fall asleep
with the phone in your hand
because your mind got over headed by all your Texting
I got a better communication
But when I wake up in the new day
I fall on my knees
and chat wit God as I pray
Oh! I fall on my knees
and have a chat wit God as I pray
But when I wake up in the new day
I fall on my knees
and chat wit God as I pray
Oh! I fall on my knees
and have a chat wit God as I pray
Anytime, every time anywhere I don't care
Stop talking space head
fall on my knees
and have a chat wit God as I pray
Dedicated to "Darlene Beaulieu"
written by James Edward Lee Sr.
11/27/17
from anthology " God's Children New poets, Poems and New Friends"
"I'm in love wit you"
is such a strong phrase
Keeps me guessing
leaves me in a daze
puting me a new phase
Making me wonder if I mean it or not
I can't say it
I can't break your heart
I love you
But I'm not in love wit you
not now anyways
Maybe we can progess
into something new
and I can finally someday say "I'm in love wit you"
He spends one more day in his bed.
To-do-lists run all ‘round his head.
Noon came and then passed,
he’s still on his ass.
A hard day of work, he most dreads!
“If man had created man, he’d be ashamed of his performance.” – Mark Twain
I'm boring through your ventricles
I'm being terribly invasive
My quiet warm breath
Keeping measure and pace
To such meticulous work
Fills your four chambers
You don't feel one thing
You feel everything
So close, so intimate
My eyelids flutter against your tricuspid valve
My whole body is fluttering now
Because now
With my lips brushing against your aortic rigatoni
I am swimming inside your deepest being
Your heavy pumping heat
My legs now dangling out of your pulmonary noodle
I've become miniscule in this glorious museum
That keeps you alive
Forgive my exit now, my darling,
This time in your heart has changed me
You are the force which wobbles this reckoning world
This I realize
Miraculously sliding up
Your superior vena cava
*Matthew Caliri
way up in the clouds
katie caples waits for me
for melissa champ
Our dearest Betty White, whose credits are long
Her sharp wit was always like a risque' song
She warmed our hearts every step of the way.
Her final bow, we wish she could have stayed.
January 8, 2022
- By Olongapoet
Are those dragon scales, your reason’s hides?
That I’d need St.George’s lance to pierce thru.
Need I look for angry Odin’s lost eye?
To see through thy cynicism’s Stygian depths?
Why does the sweet ambrosia of my offerings,
Seem mediocre for your Asgardian gratitude?
I’m not too far away in this Olympian plane,
For mine eyes be blind to thy splenetic attitude.
There is no Trojan Horse in all that I bring,
And thou art no Helen my lovely dear.
Thou won’t launch mere thousands of ships,
It would be as countless as stars yet unnamed.
Why couldn’t my Persian barrage of gaiety,
Wither your Spartan recalcitrance away,
In this Thermopylean joust of wits,
And humourless tragic Greek play?
Is this task in all means Sisyphean,
The taming of your boulder heart,
That I couldn’t bring to a pedestal mount,
For oft it runs back to the ground?
Would it take a persuasion of Homeric scale,
To convince you of my pure intentions?
Am I an eternal Pygmalion whose efforts,
Means nothing to a Galatea forever a stone?
Even Apollo’s chariot is dimmed and tempered,
When I squint my eyes in perplexity and sweat,
In untying thy senses’ Gordian knot,
And slaying thy labyrinthine mind’s Minotaur.
I don’t have Midas’ touch to turn golden,
That stony and cold disposition.
Nor I in a siren’s voice soothe and calm,
The deadening intensity of thy inquisition.
gods damn it…
I only need thee to brace thyself,
And wait for all love’s arrow to fly true,
To quiver tremulously, finally,
Upon thy hard chest.
So thou might look up,
And see upon mine bloodied hands,
a worn bow.
While Cupid long after my relief,
Of his draining, Herculean task,
lies jaded,
Wheezing upon the ground…
Note happy find where choice greets poise,
Observe the spree of cheer that springs;
Word poignant mind with vibrant voice.
Etch thus plenty that ever flings,
Allow sure heart to gather more;
Surplus peace flows to niche good times,
Yes see joy start from soul's deep core.
Work primal glow in simp,e rhymes,
Impress true feel with groovy dance;
Think and feel good here on the way.
Play now reveals a vivid chance,
Unleash fresh moods that fund grand pay;
Nurture the touch of zesty feel,
Stillness brings much as blessings thrill.
Leon Enriquez
21 September 2016
Singapore
I cannot believe what I just saw, naw a bus wit no windows? can this be a bus soley for the blind or could this be a new thought educational bus for those with eyes that see but their minds cannot so you don't need to ride a bus wit windows, the past events in your life shows mostly negativity, no insight on how you might make your life one of purpose no you just been sightseeing. so you and you and hey you over there wit yo pants hangin down below your butt, pull your pants up and climb on up on this bus, close your eyes and think Change, you should have had enough of sightseeing and you still cant see daylight and it shows so ride this bus wit no windows.