Clip On Poems | Examples

Old Treasures

Legos, crayons, yo-yo’s, shells,
Key chains, postcards, notes from camp,
Magnifying glasses, tokens
And a clip-on bedside lamp…

Action figures, racing cars,
Sticker books and rubber snakes,
Pez dispensers, memo pads and
Statuettes with cracks and breaks…

Baseball cards and ping-pong balls,
Loose erasers, sweatbands, dice -
Most would take a glance and toss ‘em,
Never even thinking twice.

Going through my kids’ old treasures,
That is what I try to do
And, though progress has been made,
It will be hours before I’m through.

Half Chewed

Scratchy polyester pants
plucked from the bottom rack.

Wrinkled plaid shirts
for veiling blood sweat and dirt

A clip-on tie purchased on the cheep
for a rose garden wedding 
destined for the weeds.

Faux leather- funeral shoes 
(Like wide mouthed baby birds) 
screaming for a flighty mother 
to gift to them a half-chewed worm.

Ure Apprehensively Mine

Ure my chemical imbalance tipping the scales
Ure the voice shouting leaving me pale
Ure the fright in the middle of a soulless night
Ure broken glass on the sidewalk
Ure cuts thru my shoes while u mock
Ure poetry in motion with nausea
Ure incurable when I wanna be done dotta
Ure an audio clip on a permanent loop
Ure the scandal rag with a crappy scoop
Ure rinse and repeat without a cleanse
Ure finite resources thru a single lens
Ure the reason for recurring work in progress
Ure my daily dose of fogginess
Ure the vacuum of perpetual thoughts
Ure the story who cannot be bought
Ure the constant double edge sword
Ure responsible for striking a chord
Ure the force I try so hard to counter with good
Ure responsible for me being misunderstood
Ure my nemesis and friend all the same
Ure the one enabling me to be creatively insane

No pills, no frills, just terrifying numbness followed by troubling relaxations
A pattern of chills trying not to succumb to this rollercoaster of varying sensations

Copyright © Christopher Delegans 2023

Pink Cloud Ray

Thicker rays of summer sun

Just poked through the clouds

And licked upon at my face

Like I was somehow painstakingly 
applying a fresh coat of lipstick 

In a subtle shade of fleshy pink

And as I began to drink it all in

Soon enough the rain set in

Drowning out my former smile

And it took me further and further away

Until I myself eventually realized

I so too had left with it as well 

And I was now soaked wet through

But yet still never knew

That though my makeup was smudged

And running down my face 

So I looked out of place

As much as I now felt inside

Knowing I had and there was no 

Where left on earth

Or outside the confinement of my head to hide

Or make-up left

To cover all my pretence up

The game was well and truly up

All the very last of the mythological sirens

Had finally given up and abandoned ship

And I am merely watching this an old

Repeat news clip on repeat

Whilst sleeping rough outside an
electronic store

As and for the sole purpose of

Keeping and providing me some

Or other form of partial company 

Huddled up inside it's doorway 

Until early morning dawn breaks

Respect - Appreciation

The clip on my folder has finally cracked
From all the paper that’s been stacked

All the paper piling up on top
My mind has unwaveringly become an emotional shop
A pivotal moment of a significant heart beat that can’t stop.

An influential mind of days’ nights and time 

Running free of feeling and thought
Of integrity and dignity that can’t be bought

Not a cheap bargain that’s for sale
There’s no price tag on these tall tales

Irrevocably
Permanently
Conclusively

As you scan 

Beep

Beep

Beep

The screen reads decline
I’m sorry sir, madam if I sound out of line
They say that’s okay its fine

We understand
We have a mind that can comprehend
It’s just that we have a strong love for your written hand

I say here then take a copy for nothing
You have given me more than something

Your respect I take willingly 

Far more worth than money.

It's All About Soccer

A daytime in Madrid
Gray sky overhead
The mist forms rows
Eyeing, hesitating
As spectators in a field
Hovering for kickoff

Masses of zealots
Shining bands of fans
In the style of a royal army
The sound of shoes trampling
Moving to a specific ground
Hovering for kickoff

The reals of Madrid are tough
They defy tooth and claw
The adrenaline level is rising
Blood of steel ran in their veins
Artistic knives are at the ready
They hurt the stadium

The reds of England look anxious.
To do this, a hero must be called.
A savior in times of peril.
A leader to rally the troops.
A Liverpool that flips the tides. 

Halftime is near
Relief for the Spanish is near
But there is a last terror spell
One final shot towards glory
A clip-on their lips
A blow on the Reals' souls

The fate of our heroes is unsure.
What lies next for the Reds?
But one thing is certain.
They seek victory.
Will they master the chaos of war?

Written: June 2, 2022

 A Brian Strand Premiere Choice Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Brian Strand

Easter Sunday 1959

Easter Sunday 1959
We were sparklingly modern
Petticoats flounced down the sidewalk
Boys wearing dark suits with clip on ties

Brother was reluctant
My cousin and I were delighted
Loving our new Easter bonnets and gloves
Lacy white anklets decorated our shoes

We felt pretty, and we were
We went up the church steps all giggly and giddy
Excited to show off our finery

Forgetting how painfully long
The reverend always rambled on and on....
Soon enough wondering if we would ever get to eat our chocolate eggs

Goat Yoga - It's Totally Baaaamy

goat yoga
relaxes body and mind –
no kidding!

Do watch this clip on the BBC website!

www.bbc.co.uk/news/av/world-europe-isle-of-man-44473950/goat-yoga-you-must-be-kidding

7/3/18

One Word Tribute

Silence



A one word tribute poem to John Cage Composer/poet

'Listen' to my clip on YouTube 

https://youtu.be/oFKu3StgnSw

Black Paradise

It is ALLright, my brother 
Clip on those wings
Your conflict is of 
the greatest tragedy
I can feel your rage,
frustration of the hustle 


Take on those wings 
Ascend to the skies
Envision the dream
Our new Black Paradise

You are not your struggle 
Go on, grow this hustle!
Breathe, climb higher!
Believe, glide through the fire

Channel the voice that roars within
Pummel the void that snares the weak
Clip on those wings and set to the skies
Seek out salvation, Black Paradise

Let off the channels of idiocracy
Hold onto hope as you set your sails
Look to the glory, 
Glare beyond the skies
See the grand meaning, Black Paradise 

It was more than a word 
More vivid than a dream
A nation united, unified by peace
The dream of perfection, 
The hope of freedom.
Still it evades us, Black Paradise 

In the land of my Fathers
Lay the seeds of the earth
And with the sweat of our mothers 
They suckled the plains
So grow forward my brothers
Set to the skies  
Glide through the fire, 
Black Paradise

Dumbing Lesley Ann Down

(Lesley Ann Down was an actress in
the Golden Age of live TV drama.)

We live in an age of midgets.
There are no seers now, only lookers,
no values left, apart from digits.
Cash is the hook, and we’re all hookers,
no Carmen Joneses, only Bridgets.

Did you have to learn the equation
(“have to”? – what an odd suggestion!)
which represents acceleration?
It’s printed now, beside the question.
No gravity, just gravitation.

Subtitle writers, now, can’t spell,
and language teachers know no grammar.
When banks are hiring tellers, well,
in Alabaster, Alabama,
they sing aloud, “You Never Can Tell”.

Let’s get somewhat more sarcastic.
Our carpenters just never get wood.
Today our craftsmen just squirt mastic,
then, as any moron could, 
they clip on bits of precut plastic.

We’ve got police (I like this best!)
who, far from being Texas Rangers,
have never passed exams or tests,
and can’t, by law, face any dangers,
or run rash risks, like make arrests.

No Richard Rodgers, Buddy Holly,
no more Stoller (as in Lieber),
but ‘tis the season to be jolly –
after all, there’s Justin Bieber!
Hence, loathéd melancholy!

Of Galileo and Newton

There is in circulation a video clip on whatsapp messaging service...
About a sophisticated attempt to vouch for Galileo's take on things that fell......

The learned man, bless his departed soul, bravely postulated to widespread awe..
That barring air resistance, all objects suffer the same rate of fall...

In a vacuum, a heavy ball and a wispy feather, they take the same time to fell...
It defies the everyday reality we observe outside when things fall...

Only goes to remind us, namely you and me, we have seen it all...
We are ordinary humans, we have never wondered at all why things fall...

Until the day another fella, Newton was his name, reasoned out why the apple fell...
Sitting under a apple tree, he chose to query the reason why an apple upon his head it fell...

To this day children the world over suffer  to master the spectrum of scientific knowledge. ...
That good old Galileo and Newton started the day the latter questioned why the apple fell....

Of course, if they had not been around, science as we know it would be rather tame...
And Neil Armstrong would probably be an obscure name, bereft of his moon walking fame...

Blue Eyes

Blue Eyes
By Joeysguy

I fell for a blonde who had blue eyes
I married that blonde with the blue eyes

Having children was a real joy
We had two girls and a boy

I always thought I would be the first to die
I didn’t think she would leave me to cry
   
 I carry a small vial that has a chain
The contents is some of my pain

With the memories of my wife
Just a little something from her life

I have a clip on my money
With a picture of who was my honey 

In a shirt pocket is my cell phone               
When opened my wife’s picture is shown

I also carry pictures of my wife
These show her in a younger life

Now in heaven is that blonde with the blue eyes
Which now helps to fill those blue skies 

To the blonde with blue eyes I want to say
I carry your love with me everyday

Let's Wear a Hat

Hats! Hats! Hats!
I love them! don't you?
They brighten my day,
and other people's, too!

"I just love your hat!" 
you'll hear them say.
And just for a while,
you've put a smile
on their day.

Sometimes, the hats I buy
need a personal touch:
A clip on flower, a pretty pin,
something outrageous,
that will bring a grin.

The hat on my head,
says "Hi," to the day,
and I can handle
whatever comes my way.

A hat lifts spirits,
on days that we're down.
But when I'm wearing my
purple, poke-a-dotted hat,
who can wear a dark day frown.

We're all in good company,
when there's a hat on our heads.
Because even newborn babies,
wear them in their beds.

But Listen, hat lover's,
when you think 
you've bought them all,
wait until once again,
you're at the shopping mall!

Everything the World Does Wrong

everything the world does wrong
will have some connection to Iran---
as the media does the bidding of
mr. hope & change n’ his cronies,
everything the world does wrong
will somehow come back to Iran---
until they can manufacture decent looking
“believable” pictures of nukes in Tehran, 
or buried in some underground cave
that suspiciously looks a bit too hollywood,
then 
everything the world does wrong
will come back to Iran in some way---
even though gen. benny gantz insists that 
“they have not yet gone the extra mile”
in producing nuclear weaponry,
everything the world does wrong
will come back to Iran---
even though the empire has more nukes than anyone &
the empire still beats the world over the head with its club,
everything the world does wrong,
everything that happens which makes the news, the front page,
the buzz clip on face**** & twatter,
it all will come back to Iran
until Iran is vaporized,
forced in submission &
squeezed of its oil 
like a sponge being drained
with a tight hand 
gripping.

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