Cooey have you heard the word on the streets 8 hours of absurd beats
Doff hat to old school cool cat rule in the hot seat sat every tune just phat
Over the moon we swoon legends croon only a buffoon lampoon’s the boon
Phew we hiss lost you and didn’t have a scooby doo how to cope without you
Heaven or Evan's sent hell bent to be the main event a magical musical present
Give Chris a kiss knew we’d miss the dope bliss did feed our need for more you
Like the thriller in Manila not a scintilla of filler just another bassline flotilla
No fraud or clanger all banger the concorde of chords roared in our hangar
Mr Morgan on the soundtrack tiller our melody miller our weekend’s pillar
Won’t get too gooey eyes wet a little dewy guys prime time to tell your friends
Can’t go wrong sound the gong funkier than cartoon loon Hong Kong Fuey
Every gambit & skit en song ding dong laced with wit from his Sunday pulpit
Brassy every pundit knows the culprit could only be Huey you’ll like it..stay classy
or the spoons
but read it accompanied by something
the French horn
the harpsichord
the balalaika at the bus stop
the burping of a favourite uncle
on the runway as passenger planes take off around you
the Saturn V rocket launch was a clanger to the metal munchies
i mean i could go on
but i won't, because going on would be going on
the soul, the guest of the body,
needs nourishment, and calls for a poptart dad;
but i will go on, because this poem, read, as in a reading,
would be good to read out loud, accompanied by or standing alongside
the eruption of Krakatoa
WTFWT
A CLATTER, A BANG
A SLAP-A-CLANGER
A BAM OR SLAM
A FIREWORK BANGER
A ZOOM, A BOOM
A CLAP OF THUNDER
A DROPPED CHAMBER POT
A GAZUNDER
A SCREECH OF FRIGHT
A SOUND OF CRYING
A LIGHTNING STRIKE
A MOAN OF DYING
A RUMBLING OF SOMEONE'S TUMMY.
A BABIES YELL
WHEN IT CAN'T FIND IT'S DUMMY
A SCRAPING NOISE
A GRATING SOUND
A SHOUT OF JOY
A TREASURE FOUND
A TRILL OF A BIRD
A FALLING TREE
I GIVE UP,
IT'S PROVING TOO MUCH FOR ME
I WILL STOP AND HAVE SOME TEA
WTFWT CAME FROM MY MOUTH TOO EASILY
I AM NOT THE GIRL I USED TO BE!
They sent me on a spaceship to walk on this dusty moon
I looked back upon planet Earth which almost made me swoon
I came to meet a Clanger and I hoped I’d meet one soon
But I can’t even find a dragon with a serving spoon
I headed for a mound that looked a little like a dune
To hear their classic whistle would be something of a boon
There and then I’d settle for a smuggled in baboon
Or to find an area where Clanger hair was strewn
But then a flick of dust kicked up but with no whistled tune
I tracked it to a critter that looked like a green raccoon
I asked the creature where the Clangers spend their afternoon
The creature said, “The Clangers live on planet ‘Blue’ you goon.”
I leapt back in my spaceship which was called The Macaroon
A strange name for a spaceship but my monorhyme is oon
I jetted off to ‘Blue’ and I arrived half way through June
And then I met the Clangers and they sold me a balloon
Flatulence has many endearing names
Most commonly known as a fart
A blow off, fluff, clanger, puff of love
Just a few from a long list and chart
Its an explosive common bodily function
Erupting, blowing ,wafting throughout the world
Yet no matter how many times we hear one
We laugh like its the first one we have ever heard!!!
There are many names for the common ‘Fart’
To name them all is quite an art
Let’s start off with good old ‘Smell’
Who it’s from we cannot tell
From the mouths of babes a ‘Pop Off’ comes
Always a giggle to all their chums
A ‘Blast Off’ is popular with the wee ones too
Often accompanied with “who’s done a poo”?
The ‘Clanger’ is popular with many a folk
Teenage boys and your average bloke
Grandma says can you please refrain
From letting ‘Fluffy off the Chain’
Here are some more just to name a few
There’s ‘Flatulence’, ‘Wind’ and ‘Air-Poo’
Honourable mentions go to these below
‘Gas’, ‘Toot’ and ‘Fluff’
Other names for ‘letting go’
Although impressive these names above
The trophy goes
To ‘Puff of Love’
Tell Someone
Written: by Miracle Man
6/6/21
If the testimony,
God has given you goes unsaid,
you become as a bell with no clanger.
Never let a fear of rejection,
compromise your witness.
Tom
Billy boy Morris was known for dropping a clanger
He bought a new car that was a complete banger
Prone to making at least a mistake once a day
Is it best to ignore him and keep out of his way ?
Billy boy Morris had a good steady job in a bank
If an extra fiver received to Billy you should thank
Catching the bus home was a catastrophe too
For he caught the wrong one that's certainly true
The meal he prepared was in the oven too long
Poor Billy boy Morris always got things wrong
One thing however he always got right
He slept like a baby each and every night
BELLS
I.
Bells has a tingling ring to it,
a jingledy-jangle silver tone.
The tympanic waltz, close knit —
angelic chorus of Christ’s throne.
And Winter parades its magic —
the pure white snow purling gold.
Morgans’ shiver and shake chromatic.
Enchantment’s carol — behold!
O Christmas day — the pearly gates
stretched wide open in senssuround,
handbells harmonious, worldwide translate
singing, sweeping, melody crowned.
~
II.
*Poesome bells! They’re morose.
Tentacles dingle-dangle forth.
Curious onlooker of its strokes,
midnight binds its ears, looks North.
The lonesome brass calls for lad
and lass with clean cuts and braids.
The aww-no sound is clad
in a nonsenseless grade.
*Edgar Allen dawdles with death clang,
its clanger brain, hellish.
The beauty, from tower hangs —
the dauber of knells doth relish.
12/20/2020
*Some thoughts from Poe’s poem “The Bells”
The cymbals clanged
The drum boom boomed.
The pickle lowed
While the violin tuned
The trumpets drowned
The sound of the drum.
The conductor frowned
And cried for Mum
The fiddler fiddled
With his bow
The flautist giggled
Until she could not blow
The pianist played
Melodious and sweet
The conductor prayed
As the musicians took their seat
As the conductor raised his baton with flare
Wondrous music filled the air
It was marvellous to see
The orchestra playing in harmony
Forgive when it’s a mistake.
It’s just an error, oversight or omission!
Or may be a fallacy, a gaffe, a faux pas or simple solecism.
Or even a howler or a clanger.
Ultimately it's just a miscalculation, misunderstanding,
Misinterpretation, misapprehension or just a misconception!
Realisation is the only cure!
And remember, it’s not your chore!
Play the blame game only if you want to distort your scores!
For, only those who analyse can actually realise!
And, then it becomes lesson of one’s life.
Understand, a mistake is a mistake, it’s not a crime!
Yes, you have a duty to understand, stay clam and to be wise.
Effortless beautiful camaraderie will surely rise.
Just forgive when it’s a mistake.
Life is so beautiful, why unnecessarily complicate?
Word is
You have to write bad poetry to learn from your mistakes.
If you cannot think of anything to write right now…
Then wait.
Inspiration will find you and take over your spirit.
Just give it a second. Try and you will feel it.
The immense wave of goodness, filling your soul with joy or anger.
Hold it in or let it go, but do not just let it pass you on by;
That would be called dropping a clanger.
You may never think of a better line,
So write like it’s the only poem you have ever written;
The best thing from your time.
This is no time for nonchalance.
Dive on in;
See what you can find beneath the surface.
Write it now or never word it.
The choice is yours.
I chose how to word this.
(C)2018 Aa Harvey. All Rights Reserved.
Bolehland has the dubious honor of losing a full bodied jet liner...
Undoubtedly touted as one of the greatest mystery in modern air travel....
A full passenger jet plane that went missing into thin air...
A disappearance thatust surpasses those in the dreaded Bermuda Triangle...
Despite spending millions in a long and exhaustive search...
Nothing of interest came up after such a lengthy search...
Now a couple of years later, debris are being washed up...
Supposedly over there on the sands of distant Madagascar...
With ever waning interest and after numerous false alarms...
Could these debris being genuine materials from that ill fated jet liner...
Could they help pinpoint the exact location of the watery grave of MH370....
But here it comes, the latest clanger...
The Malaysian consul to handle the return of MH370 debris...
Found assassinated before the debris were handed over...
Could it be mere coincidence or could it be something bigger...
Unexplained deaths stalks the mystery of the missing Msian jetliner...
What devilry or mischief lies behind the mysterious disappearance of MH370....
Hohoho...
The DJ shuts the fader by mistake,
yet speaks his words in slick and practised tones,
but doesn’t hear them coming through his ’phones,
berates himself: That’s quite a gaffe to make.
That’s five whole seconds, nothing but dead air.
I’ve dropped a clanger. This is just not done!
The programme’s live, it’s not a trial run.
The punters might retune and go elsewhere.
But more important is that what we give
distracts, amuses, offers light, bright, trite.
Dead air is not an option. Get it right!
They need our pap: it tells them how to live.
Although this little lapse is but a blink,
it might just give the punters time to think.
Looking for the formal definition, structure, and history of this poetry form? Visit the Poetry Dictionary entry below. Then return to explore how PoetrySoup members bring the form to life through their own poems.