Best Yanking Poems
Dragon found a Fairy Ring and quickly jumped inside! Heaven Forbid!
Dancing round and round, he suddenly disappeared. Yes! He surely did!
As he disappeared I knew that trouble would without doubt, now ensue.
So I blew out my breath, and immediately did the same, I’d seen him do.
As I landed, I followed the mob, knowing Dragon would be in demand.
Sure enough, there he stood with the great sword Excalibur, in his hand.
The future King Arthur was standing empty handed, looking kinda sad.
Merlin, however, not amused, started chasing Dragon and looking mad.
Without Arthur to pull the sword from the stone, Camelot wouldn’t be built.
You might say that Dragon was in deep doo doo, all the way up to the hilt.
Things progressed far worse, as Merlin shot crazy magic at Dragon’s face.
He missed Dragon… leaving ‘Sir Mouse a lot’, in Sir Lancelot’s place.
Dragon dodged a magic bolt, from Merlin, hitting Sir Gwain, like a mace.
Yep, if this kept up, the whole round table was about to end, without a trace.
So I jumped Merlin, bringing him to the ground, as I screamed at Dragon!
Put that blooming sword down!… As in: YEP! BACK IN THE STONE!!!
But by then I was changed to a frog, and a few croaks were the only sounds.
Old England had become the new Mayhem Falls, both alive and now found.
Suddenly, Grandpa Troll appeared, yanking the sword from Dragon’s hand.
Putting it back in the stone, he bowed to Merlin and all of his medieval land.
Next he grabbed Dragon by the ear, and me as I hopped across the ground.
We quickly made an exit… by use of the Fairy Ring, now so very profound.
Camelot’s problems, would no doubt, be from ‘Sir Mouse A Lot’s’ overload.
Imagine what might have been, if we’d never helped see, that day bestowed.
Would the world have been better? Would Camelot have longer survived?
We’ll never know. But the Moral is: Beware of Fairy Rings and Dragons!
For they can bring about the worlds end, as we know it, on any given day!
Camelot had that story put on a Tapestry along with Arthur’s great event.
He dutifully, also, pulled the sword from the stone… Yep… You might say…
For them it had become ‘A Great News Day!’ As I did ribbit and hop away!
Written by Carol Eastman 8-29-2016
Categories:
yanking, adventure, fantasy, fun, funny,
Form:
Light Verse
As Marion trod the old familiar path
leading to the river of her childhood,
she viewed the willow tree across the river
and recalled with clarity
the event that changed her life
half a century ago - that memory
which for all her adult life
she‘d managed to suppress . . .
She was being chased by Ellie down the path;
Ellie, the fair haired younger sister
favored by their father
and wearing the golden pendant he had given her
when she’d won a spelling bee.
Yanking the pendant from her sister’s neck,
Marion ran into the river’s icy water,
threatening to throw the pendant in.
Screaming, Ellie followed right behind.
Farther into the river’s center, the two girls moved.
Where the riverbed dipped sharply,
Ellie had caught up.
Suddenly the wind blew violently,
The chain with its beautiful pendant
slipped from Marion’s hand
into the swirling water.
Ellie tottered, falling backwards.
Then the river was carrying
Marion’s little sister to the other side.
Marion called out, but Ellie did not answer.
A strong swimmer, Marion swam
to her sister’s lifeless body
on the opposite bank where a nearby willow stood -
witness to her crime.
Marion now was standing where she once had stood
that fateful day. The river had receded with time,
but its current was still strong.
She stood recalling her parents’ bitter tears
and how she had escaped their wrath
inventing her own version of the truth -
that Ellie had run into the water by herself
when the sudden wind came up
causing her demise.
She felt bad, but in the end,
she became her father’s newfound pride and joy.
Something glittered at the water’s edge.
Marion, now heavy and clumsy with age,
moved closer to see. Could it be after all these years?
Yes, it was the pendant, shining in the river’s sludge!
She stooped to pick it up, but lost her balance,
falling forward toward the slanting floor.
As she struggled, a great gust of wind
moved her out. . .farther and farther to the middle.
Before her head vanished below the water’s surface,
she saw that old willow’s leaves flutter angrily.
She could almost swear she saw the form of Ellie,
fair sweet Ellie, beckoning her from the other side.
For Frank Herrera's POEM ENDING WITH A 'CHILLING TWIST' Poetry Contest
Categories:
yanking, mystery,
Form:
Narrative
Poems are just about everywhere
If you keep an open mind
So many things can prompt a verse
Just seek and ye shall find
Sometimes everyday happenings
Inspire you to sit and write
A robin frantically yanking on a worm
A kid wobbly riding a bike
A construction worker in a hard hat
Two lovers hand in hand
Traffic lights flashing red and green
Sounds of a Dixieland Band
Keep an eye out for things around you
As mundane as they may seem
Look deeper into what's going on
You may find a hidden theme
Poems are just about everywhere
If you keep an open mind
Categories:
yanking, future,
Form:
Rhyme
Making him your one and only
After his unfilled promises.
Yanking out those treasures of love
Brought out from closet cornices,
Even though he's your turtle dove.
Categories:
yanking, betrayal, love,
Form:
Acrostic
oh there is this voice in my head that echoes
sometimes whispering venomous, poison insults
and at times screaming negativity... grasping my heart
twisting my spirit to tatters and ruin
a parrot mimic, chattering in the dark corridors
of my mind, hiding in all my inner private spaces
plucking and yanking, killing my tranquility
STOP your endless speaking and your crippling malice
I cry, for there is another voice murmuring
a voice softer but much stronger
this voice is courage and will nullify your condemning
in the hush-hush of night I must listen to both voices
and my insides are aching . . this is what I have to say noxious voice
I wish to be an eagle flying high and not a parrot caged in my mind . . .
______________________________
January 13, 2019
Poetry/Free Verse/The Poisonous Parrot
Copyright Protected, ID 19- 1104-553-02
All Rights Reserved. Written under Pseudonym.
Written for the contest, Plucking The Poisonous Parrot
sponsor, Maureen McGreavy
Third Place
Categories:
yanking, introspection,
Form:
Free verse
It’s surreal,
that in-between where,
life stares down death.
One minute you’re facing eternity;
the next the realization that
you’re not in control.
In that reality,
life seems insignificant,
like dust escaping in
the winds to another time.
Yes, surreal transformation
only it’s reality,
yanking you back to mortality.
Still, you know one day
it’ll change its mind.
Categories:
yanking, allusion, conflict, death, health,
Form:
Prose
Possessed by animalistic lust
In a realm of fantasies
Sexualized beauties hands creep across their lover's skull
Every breath stolen from seductive rose lips
Bowing down in devotion, engaging in cunnilingus
Enticing demoness stripping from their panties and stockings
Released from their garterbelts and fishnets
Masochist chained, wiped, and ball-gagged
Anilingus stimulation before the act of sodomizing pleasure
The dorms fill with a musty scent
Maidens smell enticing with incense in their hair
Masturbating to the sexual atmosphere
Everyone is spreading the language of feral behavior
Arousement blooming between their legs
Feel her warm tongue, surrender to her you must
The feeling of being bitten and clawed sends shivers down your body, cumming on her breast
Caught in a haze looking into each others wild eyes
Don't you just love untamed copulation
A gathering of promiscuous, Polymorphous beings
Harlots entwined in passion, love, and erotic desires
The embodiment of sadistic penetration while yanking at their pierced teats with your mouth
Left drained is it all an illusion. this can't be real
This day, this night shall be eternal
Celebrating the offered sin of lust
Categories:
yanking, lust, sexy,
Form:
ABC
Judging our tensile strength
As she furiously reams
Nibbling away at our armor
Undeterred by wishes or dreams
Alternately pushing and pulling
Rending our world with her blast
Yanking us apart at the seams
Categories:
yanking, january,
Form:
Acrostic
Three o’clock in the afternoon:
the sun should have been
scorching the asphalts
and the shingles on roofs, but
spurts of red electric spark
ran across the sky. Blackness
smothered any hint of light.
Molten earth spewed out
from the gates of hell. The ground
rumbled and shook.
Ash engulfed the rice fields.
Those who were caught
and trapped in its path
were mummified like those at Pompeii. Rocks,
mud rained from heaven,
thudded against concrete walls. Palm and coconut
trees were unearthed from their roots
as if a gardener was yanking out weeds.
Villagers ran blindly to a nearby church
while their skins roasted and peeled
from their muscles and bones. The ones,
who were able to reach
the Cross, suffocated—their lungs
seared from sulfuric acid.
An avalanche of dirt buried them
six feet deep.
I was on the opposite
side of the island. The wind
howled as it blew East.
Categories:
yanking, natural disasters,
Form:
Free verse
The Sound of Distant Ankle Bells
Memories of those delicate tinkling bells,
casually fastened around calloused feet,
take hold of my waking moments,
and fling my thoughts back to a distant time,
where folk-songs were heartily sung,
joyful, yet hopelessly out of rhyme.
I barely saw her, a construction labourer perhaps,
hauling bricks, cement, anything, on a scorching Delhi day,
while in the semi-shade of a Gulmohar tree, her infant silently lay.
A cacophony of thoughts such as these swirl around,
yanking me away from the now, to my cow-dung littered childhood playground.
Now, a lifetime of displacement has hushed the jangling chorus of the past,
to a faint trickle of sounds, as distant as an ocean heard inside tiny sea-shells,
and,
I know, that the orchestral nostalgic crescendo, rises, dips, and swells,
as tantalisingly near, yet a world of time away, as were the tinkling of her ankle-bells.
Categories:
yanking, child, childhood, growing up,
Form:
In loving memory of Silly
The ominous clouds brew, icy darkness looms,
Evil cackle flashes sparks of its menacing fangs,
Sinking them deep into my soft yellow downy,
Yanking me apart, leaving me naked and lonely.
I shiver, tremble and chatter.
Mama, mama, where have you been?
I look at my nest up in the tree,
Mama, mama, why did you leave me?
Gnarled tree branches snatched away my home,
Clawing, ripping and towering tall over me,
The fall - blurred vision of trees, terror painfully gnaws,
Now, only, cold and numbness as I cannot feel my claws.
I inch forward slowly to find a worm.
Mama would have picked some for me.
But now, I scarce can see no hope,
The bittersweet taste of the worm makes me choke.
Suddenly, I find I am nestled in a little girl's hands.
The slightest tinge of warmth delights me,
Gently, she ruffles through my scarce feathers,
Puffing up, I brace the changing weather.
The pungent smell of the rain stings my nostrils,
I chirp helplessly in disgust,
Tears from the sky pelt on me, lashing out angrily,
I retreat, sink back in, and cry along silently.
Her home smells of fresh toast,
Mine smells of juicy worms, but I settle in anyway.
The fall has crushed my feet in its cruel hands,
My feet are broken, I cannot stand.
For the next few hours, I wallow in misery.
She knows nothing about my agonising pain,
But fits me into a sock to keep me warm,
As I listen to the sighing trees mourn.
The sock begins to feel cold and icy,
I try to swallow the slimy papaya she mushed,
But in my throat, the concoction swells and becomes thicker,
Burning sensation, daylight flickers.
I shiver, tremble and chatter.
Mama, mama, where have you been?
The rain distorts my view of my tree,
Mama, mama, why did you leave me?
Mama......
You guaranteed my freedom one day
You never said the price I had to pay
To never see another sun ray
Mama......
If my life were a thread, it would now have frayed
What little daylight I saw had become grey
And as I cuddled up and started to pray
Mama......
I became an angel today.
Categories:
yanking, bird, dark, death,
Form:
Narrative
We arrived, it was 7 a.m.
Then I was just a small girl
I still don't know why it made her angry
I will never know why
She bashed my head into the sink
After undoing my braids
My head was flooded into icy cold water
My body heated up with hatred and fear
The visuals of her yanking and scrubbing
Remembering that nobody stood up for me
My cousins and sister
They watched tv in the other room
I was stripped naked, she was screaming
I was thrown into the shower
Still nobody stood up for me
And I always wondered
Why my mom put it in my hair, did she forget
How much my grandma hated hair spray?
Late that night
I should never have told my mother
From then on
Every day I was only fed
Chocolate donuts or fruit cocktail
My stomach still churns at the sight of either
Never will know why she did those things to me
She didn't do them to anyone else
I resented all of the the days that
I was stuck with nowhere else to go
My mother couldn't afford a babysitter
And off I would go, sent to her regardless
The irony is, I still wear hairspray
I love it, and not just because she hated it
I understand now
What I couldn't comprehend then
Hairspray doesn't destruct
Or tear people apart
It is made to keep something in place
Unlike her it offers stability
I may never
Eat certain foods again
And I may still cringe at times
When I see a certain knob on a sink
But when I feel like it, I do have
One thing I do that makes me smile
I will stand infront of a mirror
Braiding my long tresses
I smile and spray
Hairspray
Categories:
yanking, abuse, child abuse, grandmother,
Form:
Free verse
as i sit in awe of the never-ending lies,
i ponder, i wait; day after day,
hour after hour...
waiting for the anger,
the coldness,
the cold heared monsters
to just pass me by.
then out from the shadows,
comes a warm gestured light,
calling, pulling, yanking me in,
but as i reach it i realize what i am now in.
the yelling, the screaming,
the misled hearts,
i sit down and pray to the almighty lord
, please WAKE these poor people.
one man ...
one man nods his head,
one man understands my sorrow,
one man sthays calm
while all others minds are clouded.
the familiar face is gone now,
Jesus or priest. man or God,
i sit and pray minute after minute, second after second.
Categories:
yanking, political, religion, me,
Form:
Free verse
Overweight law enforcement official:
Whopper
Copper
Nickname for a rather pudgy Charles Dickens Character:
Whopper
Copper
Overweight Janitor:
Whopper
Mopper
Big fat lie:
Whopper
Whopper
Lockjaw:
Chopper
Stopper
Highway Patrolman pulling over a Hell’s Angel:
Chopper
Stopper
Louis XVI banned the Guillotine and thus was nicknamed the Great and Royal:
Chopper
Stopper
Church secretary to parishioners in a confession line: ‘Lunch break! In which time you certainly may NOT’:
Bother
Father
Shocking and irreverent response to the priest's query from an obviously irritated and frustrated parishioner who had the misfortune of being the last in line: ‘Do I wanna make a what?? Hell’s Bells!...Don’t even’:
Bother,
Father!
Spaced-out church officer:
Freekin’
Deacon
Grouchy, grumbling and humiliated congregation member to the officer who dropped the communion tray on her lap:
Freekin’
Deacon!
Elderly church officer forced to depend upon Depends:
Leekin’
Deacon
Postscript: Sadly, the last three verses refer to the unfortunate soul mentioned above. The pastor was forced to accept the deacon's resignation for drug abuse, improper behavior and dress code violations because he insisted on constantly tugging and yanking his suit coat down in a futile attempt to conceal his rather puffy and swollen hindquarters which of course made his pants far too short, exposing his sagging socks and rather pale, boney calves...On a brighter note, he was hired by FEMA to council and assist stranded flood victims after the water had receded to a safe wading level...
Categories:
yanking, funny, giggle, life, drug,
Form:
Footle
Adulterous besieging capstone damnation
exploitation foists groping, heaving
insidiously jerking
knowingly lunges
machinations notoriously nymphomaniacal
officiating penile quests
rapaciously, sadistically
tenaciously, unstoppably
vasocongested wickedness
Xerses yawped zeolously.
***************************
All throughout history of man/woman kind
ascendent civilizations extensively gouged,
impailed, kindled, murderous outrages
quashing sacred urges, women yearned.
***************************
Versatile thematic refrain punctuating nubiles
maximized looting, pillaging, raping
visited upon females via decimating fountainhead
guarding brestworks of vestal virgins,
innocent youths (little boys and girls).
***************************
Twenty first century *****Sapiens male population continue to applaud, covet, extol, gloat, invoke, kickstart, molest outrages, quest savagely thee unbridled wedded yoke appropriating coquettishly enshrined gals imposing killing mandates okaying queasy sordid ugly wretchedness yanking aborhent behavior denigrating, fulminating, harrassing, jawdropping lewdness, nabbing prized rearends, twerking, violently whiplashing, yelling zingers.
***************************
Now not a day elapses with instances women claim untoward advances, and/or forced coercion to satiate and temporarily slate the sexual thirst informing prononced picadilloes (philandering if married pompous head honcho demands appeasement of coitus, ********, indecent lowball outrageous ribald uncouth x-rated animalistic, carnal, feral, gonadal, immoral, kleptomaniacally misogynistic, narcissistic, opportunistic, pathetically reprehensible, torturously undervaluing, validating virility within Yankee Doodle, haply lambasting, proudly touting, vaunted wayfair zest.
***************************
The above meandering stream of consciousness attempted to amplify, a recent spate of accusations figuratively slapped against a male sex mongers, who specifically rule roost, and blithely, demandingly, forcefully, hideously, impishly, killingly, malignantly, opprobriously, powerfully, repeatedly, terminally, vindictively, wantonly, yearningly acrimoniously belittle, demean flagrantly, harshly insinuate keeping mindful, not publicize rabid tawdry unwanted villainous withering zeal!
Categories:
yanking, abuse, age, anger, discrimination,
Form:
Dramatic Verse