Best Worked Up Poems
(The Contest)
I once knew a gentle poet boy
Pretending to be the real McCoy
He lost two in a row
This is no game show
At the end, I felt used by the playboy
(The cold rain)
I wish I could take back the HM
Don't know why you chose to condemn
I thought we were friends
Now I see through crystal lens,
How you think all your poems are a top gem
(Not a reason to hate)
I once knew a girl with heavy makeup
Behind her smile, her face was corrupt
She was in it for the race
Wanting all her poems to place
She did not win, now she's all worked up
SKAT
Time to head off to the gym, for my daily work out session
Tummy bulging, thighs are wobbling, my body is in regression
Once I was toned and oh so slim
But the lure of sweets just sucked me in
Chocolate and biscuits are my downfall
A bag of ‘Minstrels’ I will eat them all
Here in the gym I am working up a sweat …
Sweets and chocolate I must forget
So I do my aerobics class and then have a swim
Do fifty lengths – oh I must be getting slim
Then off for a circuit class, oh I do work hard
For I want to look so sexy in my purple leotard
After all that exercise I’ve worked up a healthy appetite
Grab a bag of fries – no wonder my clothes feel so tight!
06~15~15
Sweats and Sweets Contest – Olive E Guillermo
Recently learned the word malaprop, didn't want to dally on this something silly, cheers dilly
The dust flew off the top of the sealant fan
Frantically I started to clean my barns out
I swept it quickly up in my little dust pan
Worked up quite a thirst, without a drought
I spot checked with a test of the right glove
Everything finally seeming so slick and span
Until in the room walked the life of my love
And he turned on that damned dusty fan
I screamed and yelled from the tip of my lung
And passed a list of chores called honey poo
Is that what it's called? it's on the top of my tongue
Swept up all the dust again, that's what my honey do
It is merely speculation
Yet we get ourselves worked up
Before it’s said and done
We conclude, it’s just too tough
All because of a notion
Not a concrete fact
We question, where we’re going
Eyes fixed on our own backs
We determine that we know
The Who, what, why and where
Frigid feelings snow
Tension chills the air
Defensive out of spite
Caused by our suspicions
Could be wrong, may be right
We assemble our own prisons
Just sitting there mighty
The ships and the people.
Flying American
Flags and the eagle.
Just sitting in harbor
That Sunday morn,
Oblivious to battle
And coming forlorn.
Drinking their coffee
And eating their breakfast
Things were going
Right along with their wishes
When suddenly a soldier
Did speak up and say,
"They're some blips on the radar
And they're coming our way!"
Then the officer said
"Now look here you see,
They're our boys coming home
In their B-17's.
So don't get all worked up,
No excitement today,
So get back to working
And resting and play!"
Now planes flying by
Were soon to be heard
But a shout soon went up
"Hey! Those are not our birds!"
Explosions to follow
Soon filled the sky
Now stand up and fight,
Or lay down and die
Guns fired back,
The battle was on,
But pretty soon after
The battleships were gone!
They were stuck in the harbor
With no way out,
And smoke's hanging over
The harbor in clouds
A valiant defensive
The defenders put forth
Desperately trying to
Even the score,
But their goals completed
The enemy turned back
Leaving behind them
Devastation and black
Many men died
On that fateful day
But a little luck came
The American's way!
Their carriers were still,
Far out at sea,
And part of the battle
They never did be!
Pearl Harbor will live on
In infamy
Stories of those who died
To keep their land free!
Their ultimate sacrifice
Helped the whole world to see
That America's the land
Of the brave and the free!
Summer nights in Centerville, sleeping on the top bunk bed;
A transistor radio playing low, lying right there near my head.
The Big Red Machine was in their prime; those boys could sure play ball;
I fell asleep every night listening to the play-by-play of Joe Nuxhall.
I entered my life of puberty with Charlie Hustle running to first;
Davey Concepcion turning two and Joe Morgan with a speedy burst.
Johnny Bench throwing out would be stealers, Pedro Borbon with a bending curve;
All happening on the summer of my first kiss – once I finally worked up the nerve.
With Tommy sleeping in the bed below – nary a care in the world,
George Foster launched an enormous shot while I tried to figure out the girls.
Jack Billingham was striking them out – an apt metaphor for my chances,
As I fantasized about dating girls while two bases Ken Griffey advances.
Tony Perez was still strapping them on; Don Gullet piled up some wins;
Cesar Geronimo owned center field while my hormones multiplied within.
Coming of age in Centerville, back in nineteen seventy-four,
Meant listening to the Cincinnati Reds while thinking about the girl next door.
When worked up and yelling a sight to behold
She was an expert on the art of the scold
But she was good in bed
And kept him well fed
And he was quite deaf if the truth be told
Like a tangled mess, stubborn knots
Emotions like this exist in me a lot
I begin to untangle, starting with ease
Relaxed in the moment, some therapy
Then I get stuck here and there in spots
Following the string in its twisted path
Two steps forward then one step back
Testing how far I will stay on this track
Lots of twisted, turns and loops
Emotions swirling like hula hoops
It’s just a knot, that’s all it is
Why get worked up deep to my core
Emotions are just like a knot at times
Carrying them subconsciously all our life
Taking us on a roller coaster ride
To places we hide, places that are new
Maybe if I dealt with, understood my emotions
Then maybe my knots wouldn’t be so hard to undo!
Gray clouds shift from left to right
A storm is brewing, may last all night
Tree leaves ruffling in the wind
She heads for her house, hides in the den
She feels so safe in that special place
No thoughts of storms, just of his face
Though it is pouring and gives a scare
She know she’s safe for now, in there
Remembering…
He pulled her into his big strong arms
Saying he’d protect, keep her free from harm
They walked slowly to the billiard table
Romantic, the two, like Dietrich and Gable
Smiling, demurely, she leaped to the table
Seeing it was strong and ever so stable
She motioned for him to come over to her
After that moment, it became just a blur
She played a new game of billiards for sure
Cue sticks and balls were thrown to the floor
The two were having fun playing there on the felt
As she reached for her lover and pulled off his belt
The two now aglow by the pool table light
Had worked up some heat on the dark rainy night
Then, intertwined, hearts raced out of control
Love making went on, absorbing each soul
Now…
Thinking of that night when they shared that time
The happiest of feelings had all come to mind
The fear in her head and then in her heart
Had drifted away from her there in the dark
I'm eight years old,
And I'm in a mess.
We have not that much money,
not even enough, to buy my sister a dress.
So think, think, think. What can I do?
I can go door to door,
And ask for a spare dime,
But, there are so many doors,
And I don't have that kind of time.
I can call Grandpa Jack,
I know he has big bucks,
But he only gives it out, to people
who are down on their luck.
I could write a letter to my Grandma Jean,
She's always been really hip to the scene!
My Dad would give me the money I bet,
But not until I worked up a good sweat!
I might come back to this one,
Depending how desperate I get.
The want ads? I wonder
if they have a job,
for me?
Yes, but, you have to be
between the ages of eighteen
and sixty-three.
This isn't working!
My sister is starting to cry.
She knows just how to work me,
I can't take it, to see a big tear in her eye.
I told her, "not to worry. I'll make it happen,
wait and see. You'll have a pink dress,
down to your knees."
So I sat down and put my head in my hands,
And I sat like that, until I came up
with a
plan.
Here's what I decided to do...
I went to my closet,
I started digging from the top.
It took forever, to get to the bottom,
the place I could stop.
I cleaned, stacked and sorted,
then priced all my stuff.
Surely, all of this would bring
more than enough!
Then I sold all the things,
that I didn't need.
By the end of the day, all the change
in my pocket, was enough money indeed!
So, down to the store,
I pedaled to quick!
So fast, in fact, I started feeling
quite sick!
I pulled from my pocket, all the cash
I'd worked for.
Then exchanged it for a pretty pink dress,
I knew my sister would adore.
Back on my bike, the dress flying behind.
All this work, all this effort!
But, could I make it back home in time?
I threw down my bike, as I caught the dress
from its flight.
Then, burst open the door, shouting
"Sis, close your eyes, tight!"
The look on her face, as I revealed
to her, the dress
Let me know as a brother, I was the best!
So I solved that problem,
Now I could relax.
There was no more stress,
over a silly old dress.
You may use this toilet, but please do not spoil it,
Quit being mean by keeping it clean.
Flush it with water, not with what’s meant to drink,
If you care for others you won’t let it stink,
Ensure your aim is always true,
Use the right place meant for doing what you do.
Never leave bits and pieces lying around,
Inside the potty, not made on the ground.
Others may step on it, perhaps fall and trip?
Just because you made, an uncivil slip.
Always put value on that gleaming commode,
Whether in ceramic or moulded from spode.
Inside your home it would be ever so shining,
Why leave some strangers all worked up and whining?
Paying respect to everything going in under your snout,
Also pay attention to whats coming out.
-Prince Freakasso
(Painter & Poet)
My Lovely Children – All Grown Now
It was one cold snowy morning, that dawn of 1970,
I awoke to many strange feeling, deep inside of me.
Quietly I sat, at my bedside in an eerie calm,
Not sure of what to expect, not sounding the alarm.
It took only an hour, the ride, registration and prep,
The next thing I remember, a face I’ll never forget!
A few years later, a similar repeat, it’s now 1973,
No calm this time, this little one, was anxious to be free.
Because of my previous history, they kept me overnight,
As fate would have it, things calmed down, no baby in sight.
Early the next morning, something woke up inside of me,
Within minute’s aides all about, tending to my new baby.
Third times a charm, as some would say, it’s now 1977,
I worked up to the very last day, then excitement at eleven.
No time to waste, we must make haste, phone call to the sitter,
Fifteen minute drive seemed liked and hour, hurry this one’s a kicker.
Upon arrival, I was immediately prepped, an led to the labor room,
In the blink of an eye, button pressed for the nurse, the rest you can assume.
My Lovely Children, all grown up now, we all fit just like a glove
God’s best was given to me through grace and the mysteries of love!
Written © 2/19/16
In the Fifties, on Christmas Eve,
We all dressed in our Sunday best
To go to Midnight Mass
To exalt the birth of Jesus Christ
We’d come home, get into our PJ's,
And sleep around the decorated Christmas tree.
We all would wake up all worked up
To open our gifts of coloring books,
Crayon, clothes, and a few toys.
We were happy with our gifts,
Never did complain to our parents of what we obtained.
Now in the Twenty Century
They still honor the birth of Jesus Christ
Midnight Mass and sing Christmas carols
It Came Upon the Midnight Clear,
O Town of Bethlehem, Silent Night,
Then go home to their beautifully decorated
Christmas tree of silver and gold ornaments,
Garland of string pearls, gold wide bow ribbons
And a large angel on top of the tree
With brilliant strings of miniature lights.
Gifts of all sizes overflow around the bottom
Of the tree. And mom and dad go in debt
Until next year.
Kidos Christmas toys are electronic
Games, action figures, cell phone, iPods,
And if they're not happy they complain and
Presents are returning the following day
By Eve Roper 12/10/2014
I settled down to watch her strip,
A beer can in my hand.
Impressed, I hardly took a sip -
She’d be in great demand.
The music blared, its rhythm wild,
She worked up quite a sweat.
Amazed, I clapped and she just smiled -
She hadn’t finished yet…
She took it all off, every bit,
And turned to take a bow.
This decorating job’s a hit -
I’ll hang the paper now.
What should I write, what do you think
How's about tightie whities
The kind that get most women all worked up
Divesting themselves of their nighties
Even if you plead you have a headache
She's in no condition to listen
Those tightie whities are driving her crazy
Down below she starts to go fishin'
All of a sudden your headache disappears
Now it's you who's all gung ho
You yell out “tally ho, ride 'em cowboy”
She screams bloody murder “woo ho”
That continues for thirty-eight seconds
Then collapsing exhausted on the floor
You scream out “got a cramp in my leg”
She yells, “I want more, I want more, I want more!”
Think to myself that's the very last time
It's polka dot boxers from now on
Tightie whities will be the death of me
At my age, ain't got that long
Ha... a fairy tale!!!
© Jack Ellison 2013