Best Yodels Poems
< Cascading lakes and streams
The loon stands out it seems
Minnesota's state bird
I know it must sound absurd
Adopted in nineteen sixty one
Wails and yodels heard under the sun
Black and white bearing red eyes
Wingspans five feet can make one cry
Body lengths up to three feet
Yet clumsy on lands and moss peat
They are high speed flyers
And great underwater divers
They can dive up to ninety feet
In pursuit of fish they want to eat
They are even on our license plates
An critical habitat drawn on metal slates
Twelve thousand of these unique birds
God that has to be a lot of turds
But for now I'll enjoy it's captured views
Of this beautiful loon and it's most colorful hues
Written By Katherine Stella
Entry For Mini - Blog Beautiful Bird Contest
By Constance ~ A Rambling Poet
Pale crimson skies
Stretched beyond repair.
Clouds as scarce as life
Above the desert’s lair.
Upon the sarcous traces
Of the dusty morsels,
Rain from a wispy heart
Like drunken yodels.
From the parched sands,
Palatable scents diffuse.
It approaches, it taunts
The flesh cannot refuse.
The dead wind in its lullaby
Whispers vigorously to give in
The parched eagle shrieks
The rose is bloody from sin.
Remember the thorny cacti
Scorched by the wrath
Defence is no defense
Pain lies on that path.
The giver of verve
Gives not but mercy.
Famine fuels the force
The desert is testy.
The tunnels beneath the sand
Lead to worlds unknown
The edifice in the distance
Could it be a tombstone?
it doesn't take a lot
to make some people happy
a midnight snack of goodies
with that, oh so sweet, cold milk
could be Malomars,Fig Newtons,
or those yummy chocolate covered
Ring-Dings......
just a small sampling of how
sometimes these small wonders
help us deal with bigger things...
my favorite is the milk, perhaps with
a Pepperidge Farm cookie too...
oh, the Gods were so generous
when they created such as these anew,
sometimes I barely remember
the late evening goodie raid
it's the tell-tale chocolate stains
on my pillow, or sheets where I had laid
that brings it back to me
the price that now must be paid
laundry a day earlier than planned,
another diet quickly canned,
how come I can't stand
the thought of my choclate covered hand
so tonight I hope I strand...
those devilishly delicious treats grand
should I tie myself to the bed?
and let an elf get them for me instead?
all right, this sweet talk is now done
say, I wonder about that bear-claw bun......
A lonely cowboy yodels as his echo joins him in a duet.
August 18, 2016
No more Twinkies, no more Yodels;
Say farewell to Sno Balls, too.
Ring Dings soon will be extinct
And Devil Dogs, as well, are through.
Plus you’ll have to wonder where
Your fluffy white bread went because
If Wonder was the brand you bought,
This news I bring will give you pause:
For Hostess brands (and Drakes as well)
Have closed their doors, declared defeat;
But oh, those squiggle cupcakes! They,
In childhood days, were such a treat!
Hostess cakes are front and center
When I’m sweetly reminiscing.
I feel bad for kids today
And all those Twinkies they’ll be missing!
Olé
Our nympho neighbour called Lucille
Yodels after sex, how she'd squeal
My poor husband Paul
Just bangs on the wall
As paper thin walls aren't ideal!
Lu’s bonking for hour upon hour
Just pausing to grab a quick shower
Though she’s aged ninety eight
Lucille’s sex life is great -
Young lovers have got staying power!
01/28/21
Watchmaker, watchmaker make me a watch,
Which tells me I'm time, which shan't be forgot.
I want it to yell in yodels and songs sung by a lady,
Whenever I'm adrift in my mind full of lies in fantasy.
Use cogs and quarts to bind the time to my soul,
Tie wires and wheels to my veins and my vessels.
Tick me with tocks of the clock on my wrist,
So never again shall another minute be missed.
So watchmaker, watchmaker make me a watch,
As we're struck on another roman numeral notch.
I get so bored and restless
On this walk that we call life
So I took up yodel lessons
Now I yodel out in rhyme
So sit back my friend and relax
As we have ourselves some fun
In what I hope is the first of many
In a long line of yodel poems to come
Yodel-Ay-Ee-Oooo
Yodel-Ay-Ee-Oooo
Yodel-Ay-Ee!
It'll get your ears a flapping
So hang on tightly to those lobes
As your knees begin a knocking
With the tapping of the toes
I know you must be thinking
As far as poems and yodels go
It's the perfect combination
Yodel-Ay, Yodel-Ay-Ee-Oooo
Yodel-Ay-Ee-Oooo
Yodel-Ay-Ee-Oooo
Yodel-Ay-Ee!
What you are witnessing here is the beginning of a phenomenon that is soon to sweep the nation...
Later in life as you are surrounded by your Grandchildren perhaps even your Great Grand Children and they ask you to tell them of the good old days you can explain to them about the time you remember when there was only ONE Yodel Poem. They may find it hard to believe my friend but you and I both know the truth...
Welcome to the beginning of Yodel Poem HISTORY!
No need to thank me.
Do you remember the house by the lake?
The house that was always filled
with a thousand good times,
a house that never saw a tear
nor heard a sad tale,
the house that saw sunrises
and sunsets
and heard thunder
and felt rain
on its funny old roof
stuffed with birds' nests
and pine cones
and cobwebs
and such
that never mattered much
to the people who called it home
because the laughs
kept the funny roof
from falling in
and the good times
kept the old walls sturdy
and straight?
So do you remember the house by the lake?
Do you remember that old tall pine tree?
The one where the owl would sit until three,
and we'd hear every hoot and then every reply
from some owl in the distance
or one passing by?
And then come the morning
the loons would begin
their yodels and wails
that would spread across the lake
like musical ripples
announcing to all
that they would be with us
but only 'til Fall.
For at that time
many others would leave
and return to wherever they came from
and return to their Autumn ways
of doing things
far removed from the Summer,
removed from the pine-heavy breeze,
removed from those carefree days
when Time would take a Summertime break.
So do you remember the house by the lake?
copyright © 2019 Gregory Firlotte
Ladies and gentlemen, and all the rest
We do entertain you to the fullest
As pickle members of well-being zest
Showing functional roles for healthy quest
Making us thank God*, we’re uniquely blest!
Ready are we to show our savory best
Sizzling loudly, exuding flavor’s jest
Behold our spices strong in challenging taste test
Mustard seed, chili powder belt song-fest
While turmeric yodels from choir loft nest!
Onstage are fresh herbs lilting with delight
Ginger, onion, garlic, dill … sway to flight
Along salt and vinegar’s graceful might
Ecstatic midst olive oil’s waltzing sprite
Satiating awesomely everyone’s appetite!
Molasses, alum rise to freedom height
Swirling around cucumbers’ soaring sight
As crispy carrots with shrimps glide aright
Bottled on display for dieters’ plight---
In our party, you’re welcome --- since we palatably invite!
*In every thing give thanks: for this is the will of God in Christ Jesus concerning you.
September 7, 2022
6th place, "It's A Pickle Party" Poetry Writing Premier Contest
Sponsored by Mystic Rose Rose; judged on 9/10/2022.
I relish sparring repartee of clever quips...
Particularly, when voicing and/or
writing bon mots doth betake
chuckling clownlike me
rumbled stilled skin,
and e'en rouses
this mummified corpse
(asleep for bajillion years)
among sleepers awake,
where mine inside belly
doth pleasantly ache
jollity the best medicine
most thus spoke Zarathustra,
asper nonpareil persona
American radio broadcaster
Doctor Demento would attest,
one need not buy,
nor spend real or "FAKE"
money, yet brilliant come
back (as averred by
unnamed modest chap)
sweeter than New York cheesecake
moist definitely more
delectable than grubstake
jamming gobstopper with
yodels, ring dings,
or mouth size edible
chocolate candied drake,
a propensity for parrying
thrusts humorously recently
adopted, though occasionally
embarrass self,
and perhaps I might
momentarily even forsake
such wordplay, but
honing humorous turns
of phrases come roaring
back to partake, and
appease simple pleasure
inexplicably to satiate
passion with English
Language and slake
unquenchable thirst
experiencing euphoria,
vis a vis yours truly
melding, jump/kick starting,
forging, distilling
reasonable rhyme
(albeit short lived) giddy
as if I won sweepstake
this newfound affinity
with whittling words
manifested during opaque
throes of fatherhood,
when ceaseless parental
demands sought fast break
from learning to
accommodate lest stressful
overwhelming anguish
found me undertake
king oft times frazzled state,
where among great
anonymous dead poets
society, posthumous renown
would be small consolation
for widowed missus,
whose then two little girls,
(now grown to womanhood)
would inconsolably shake
for ever and anon drowning
their sweet sorrows,
where profuse tears
engender lachrymose lake.
Quatrain 1
Sitting alone at nadir in serpentine sloth;
it is placed on the breeding typo.
A slight failure comes out of the emptiness and makes
successful that which should not be believed in the rain.
Quatrain 2
The worm in the head is placed in the mind of the typo's lunacy.
With weirdness he sprinkles both the hemp of his gesture and his folly.
A wobbling fiend: he trembles in his PJs.
Divine squalor; the goblin sits nearby.
Quatrain 3
When the livers are overturned by the whisky
and fools are covered by canards,
the new repetition will be troubled by its perversion.
At this time the robots and the wackos will rumble wrongly.
Quatrain 16
A spaceman joined with a pontificator in Sagittarius
at its highest ascendant.
Plague, flatulence, debacle from moribund hoaxes;
the cat assassinates the rat.
Quatrain 23
In the third minute, at the siege,
the Bootlegger and the Luddite meet on the ballpark.
The fatigued Luddite looks up to holy mackerel
and sees an epic playing with the satire.
Quatrain 48
When twenty yards of the Moron's rejoicing have penetrated
another will take up his rejoicing for seven thousand yodels.
When the exhausted Soul takes up his claptrap
then my perspiring and twaddling will be accomplished.
Any type of poem I write
Breaks my mind of the
Concrete that it sits in
Delivering myself a headache that
Erodes my brain which often
Finds me with nothing to
Gestate into a creation of write that is
Hidden among the muddled words and letters
Into a form no particular order,
Juggling in an attempt to gain sense of the muddle I
Keep within my head, I soon
Learn that
My poetry skills are limited.
Noticeably it shows as amaturish, if
Only I had the abilities to
Piece together words into something that might
Qualify me as a form of poet.
Reading back
Something
That I have created
Undermining myself with little
Value
Wondering if an
X-ray of what is inside my mind would reveal
Yodels of verse that
Zig zags erractically inside
14th August 2020
Parallel transits lounge
Charms of shadowy spirits
Quantum Happy Hour
In summer re: I haint getting undressed!
Hence donning entire wardrobe,
Saint Nick outfit including,
while trumpeting think spring
argh only about four plus months away
lest some big bird willingly
takes me under their wing
undiscovered since I won't be peaking,
nor quacking duck like
prompts yours truly xing
to tropical rainforest
playing Tarzan and swing
from a vine, while Jane and Cheetah
(sometimes billed as
Cheetah, Cheta, and Chita)
spend hours shopping
upon returning home stock
pantry and house zing
cupboards stacked chock full of
goodies fit for average king doubling
up as Santa Claus gaining
weight courtesy snack foods like
Yodels, Little Debbies, Ring Ding...
thence outsize tummy doth happily sing
Christmas Carols practicing
all year round, especially
hoe hoe hoe wing
nsync with crops germinating
bending, stooping, watering... weeding
abiding techniques organic farming
naturally whenever possible mission avoiding
distributing, generating, impacting
ecological damage, viz carbon footprint
cheerily, humorously proselytizing
landlubbers (land lovers with lisp)
courtesy sweat of one's brow reaping
robust healthy crops - only allowing
enabling, and employing...
eco-friendly deterrents
bajillion green thumbs up
approved by Greta Thunberg
greenlighting her inspiration
to awaken global warming
hence first dibs when harvesting
season this after she subtly,
nonchalantly, enviously... seen eyeing
analogous vis a vis
hungry critters salivating
(think Pavlov's dog)
to savor NON GMO eye watering
delectable, honorable, laudable...
yumzook produce bespeaking
please help yourself
fast forward months later finding
das overly dressed mistir shivering
despite heavily bundled
nature's vegetarian smorgasbord
brutal coldspell faintly recalling
pitch perfect weather eventually returning.