Best Yawn Poems
News is abhorring
And so boring
Starting from the break of dawn
I think we need
To be indeed
Vaccinated for the yawn
They always try
The same tired lie
Their old shtick goes on and on
I’ll catch my death
With lack of breath
If they don’t vaccinate the yawn
They put on acts
With rusty facts
Their dog dug up from the lawn
And then they’ll drone
Over that bone
Hurry and vaccinate the yawn
Obey we should
For public good
And if not they’ll use their brawn
That same lousy
Makes me drowsy
Excuse me while I yawn
Here’s protection
From infection
Sorry but we’ve seen that con
So please instead
Cure sleepyhead
And vaccinate the yawn
We’ve had enough
Of their old stuff
We’re pooped out being their pawn
Since they’re creepy
We’ll stay sleepy
Until they vaccinate the yawn
A yawn went through the shop that day,
loudly and proudly, and I could not get away.
I watched it coming, flowing mouth to mouth,
first it went east, and then it turned south.
I tried to run, but it caught me as I turned a corner.
A little girl yawned big before I could warn her.
It is weird how powerful a yawn can be.
I believe it got all of us and there were at least twenty-three.
I tried to escape before it entered its second round,
but I did not get far as this is a very small town.
Yawn
The morning is here.
The day is quiet for the moment.
It will change quickly, without notice.
I must hurry to get the chores done,
and breakfast ready.
My man will be up soon.
He will be hungry.
I prepare the goat bottles.
Our babies are still very small.
They cry, but not loudly...
like real children.
They cry, softly...
like the moans and tears
by the inner heart
of all children,
starving for mom
for dad,
for attention...
sweetly.
The dog follows me around.
She too knows it is time to get up.
Time to eat,
time to wander around
and make sure all is well,
and as it should be,
on our little farm.
Our dog is very loyal,
she is very faithful,
and reliable.
Lessons could be easily learned,
just watching her,
do what she does naturally.
It is beautiful,
God is good,
and loves dogs.
He loves us more
for giving them to us.
The bacon is cooked to a crisp.
The smell is wonderful...
drifting through our home.
Fresh eggs from the chickens,
a few from the quail,
the bounty...
all a gift from the Lord.
I bow my head, not for the first time,
not for the last,
and give thanks for everything,
as it is All from HIM.
Prayers for the day,
the way to start every time,
to draw the line against
bad, and embrace all that is good.
Thank you Lord,
for waking me,
to see,
your whole world again,
through blessed eyes.
Amen.
The sun crashing through the windows.
The blue skies blessing me.
Joy awaits me, singing in each tree.
Each rose kisses my senses.
Soon a delicious breakfast shall be.
For another day of life, has been given,
Colorful as the pinwheel swiveling!
I ponder my endless lifes’ blessings.
Head bowed, thankfully!
I let go of those who harmed me,
And look out upon, what I can give!
6~7~2021
The Preacher preached on and on
His sermon was boring and long
He stood in repose
With his eyes tightly closed
Without realizing his congregation had gone
It starts with a little yawn,
then a stretch, both fore and aft.
Next the blankets start to move,
I just have to laugh.
She shuffles up from the bottom,
of the bed, where warm and snug,
she had slept the whole night through,
as snug as a bug in a rug.
But, comes the tock of six a.m.
her internal clock goes "Bong".
A morning ritual now begins,
softly, with a little yawn.
Her nose peeks out from beneath,
the rest of her soon follows.
Her head she rubs into my neck,
as I try to hide in the pillow.
It is no use, I'm now wide awake,
I climb out, into the world where I belong.
Just before she scrambles back beneath,
she gives out a little yawn.
For the contest; What makes you wake up each and every day
Sponsored by Ed Ebbs
Yawn
Yawning
I am in love with my bed
While my bloody alarm
Pains my head
Got to get up
Snooze button stuck
Because if I wish to remain employed
And i don't arise from my pit
I am in serious shite
As I am on my final warning
At this point how I would give anything to be rich
Because work is a *****
That money could fix
My head to my bed
And waking to the dread
Of i can't believe my life has come to this
Are you taking the Piss
Today is a warm calm sunny gentle Winters day at the local beach.
Aquamarine blends into tuquoise then turns deep blue ultramarine.
The gently lapping sea fades into a misty purple hue on the horizon.
The waves yawn gently in long intervals ...lazily rising in anticipation...
softly frothing and sloshing onto a warm shell studded low tide shore.
A new variety of sea sponge is found ...light , wiry and pear shaped.
A fox terrier is rolling on its back in its own world for quite some time.
A woman on the beach smiles noticing its rolling in something smelly.
"Oh dont worry its probably a sea sponge"...Alas it was a dead squid!
The sun's reflection echos a brilliant silver on its purifying fluid surface.....
A man with a solid black dog walks briskly along the waters edge..
The fox terrier approaches them......the black dog cowers unmoving.
Focus released it eventually runs to its owner some distance away.
They say that South Australian beaches are the prettiest in the world.
Today thousands of small sea birds are swimming on its deep blue waters
A wild-life photographer is spotted with a massive lens down the beach.
Where have all these birds migrated from and why are they swarming so?
A local seagull soon provides the answer with a silver pilchard prize catch
flipping the sliver of a fish over until it finally disappears into its red beak.
Fields of spun gold silk somber auburn shades
Resonant a hum breath yawn against blades.
Wiff of cool air espy hush cries cascades
Dry in silence nature's quaint everglades.
Weft of rain lingers round as slow rhythm fades.
Mystique wakeful light of dawn serenades
While the warm sun rises, the bullfrog wades,
Small blue heron stand watch like waiting maids.
3/29/2023
Earth opens wide jaws
Mouth filled with skeletal teeth
Moist wind on her breath
Perceptions and sensations,
sorrows and bliss elations,
arise and in time subside,
as on earth we wingless glide.
Step by step, we join the dots
but thoughts tie us up in knots,
whilst if we simply be still,
silence will wisdom instil.
One with universal mind,
no longer in ego’s bind,
by mirrorlessly seeing,
we reclaim our true being.
Letting go off, to get to,
each moment pristine and new,
doing nothing, we reboot;
into living light transmute.
07-May-2023
You cannot shift a mower with a motionless stance but a stance is not a stanza nor a stem so never put fifteen flowers, blades of grass, and a sweater together in the washing basket. And a shard a second is a sword that is entrusted to overlordship who's antics please only those that wound, scar and cause misery. It is wise then to put umbrellas over beds for the water will rise up in mass protest and sheer indignation too for the treatment of tailored hands is the testament for tomorrow. And now it is the morning and the verses are sung. Yes sung. Not hung. And a sleepy little blackbird is not in a four foot cage. Ok then. Now to write a thousand word essay on a grain of sand meeting a ten cubic measurement of concrete. Cloves are very very popular at a welcome game of croquet. For the many silver flies enjoy the power of the balls. Fascinating isn't it? That a silver tongued fish with a dramatic energy can sway snakes to a portion of global globules. But a lobe loping is a lecture leech. And a musician making money is magnificent. When all is quiet listen intently for the fall of a dust particle. Landing learning leaving lecherous leftovers. And a single spray from a carnation is a cake calibration in first gear. So heard by all. Wow. Good work for the drivers. And a massive score of an ever circling zero in a swoop dive over the diversity of the oceans waving plastic around. No ha no x no z. Monopodium
Well welcome to NOTHING..............................O
each sleight is the haunt
of some evicted ghost.
grieving me a life of greater pain;
I see pieces of people passing,
drifting into the footsteps
of another's future.
I feel the rough sandpaper surface
of the concrete bridge
as I prepare to jump.
For a moment my heart slumps.
It takes the smallest of memories
to interrupt a courage.
I thought each flower finer
in a different way,
if there’s a word for that,
I cannot say.
Far more acute
than any thing precise,
far more astute
than scholarly advice.
Is there a right kind of poetry?
In a room far away
behind a desk in an office,
someone else decides.
Stained glass windows
White candles
Hard wooden pews
Beautiful hymns
A congregation scrubbed clean,
ready to hear
the ordained one.
He is not a humble man,
fond of rebuking
those who oppose him.
You probably didn’t see him
passionately kissing his secretary.
But I did!
The self-righteous love
a weekly church service,
and they know the difference
between the regulars,
and the common visitor.
When sitting next to
gossipy church ladies,
I hope their poison
doesn’t affect me.
I once tried to join a church,
that I attended faithfully.
But I was young,
and didn’t have enough income,
for them to bother.
I’ve endured countless sermons
in my life.
They carry common themes.
Hand over your cash,
so you may receive blessings.
We will build more buildings.
Hire more staff.
I think God would spend
his money on the poor.
I am quite certain, that Jesus
would vomit on a pew.
I have clear goals
when trapped in a Sunday debacle.
I pray that I am able,
to stay awake for the entire
pointless show.
The touch of her hand
Moving slowly up my thigh
Lifting my boxer
Starts a delicious craving
Her eyes look over every inch of my body
My heart is racing
I can hear it beating in my ears
I crave much more
But don't want to ask
She takes her time teasing me
Tempting with each touch
Her fingers now massaging my dick
My breath is like a yawn
As she covers my mouth with hers
Moving her body upon mine
Pulsating blood rushes through my body
Bubbling with desire
Moans escape our passion
Beads of sweat run slowly between my chest
Her heap of breast heaving
Then sweet sensual climax
Takes us to a paradise
Leaving our bodies
In spectacular satisfaction
Squirming
Desiring another round
Bamgboye Stephen T.