Grandpa Franken Monster did a cha cha cha
after he ate his breakfast- tomatoes and bacon raw
Why does he eat that crap? Asked his wife maw
They were at a restaurant during the Mardi Gras
The waitress said he is not the only one
I used to have a husband who ate bullets from his gun
Pica? I asked, thinking I knew something, just for fun.
No, he was insane, said this waitress, as is our son.
Cat faeces in piles on the grass
I’m tempted to butt plug cat’s ass
But two solar cat scarers
Have stopped cat crap terrors
Their solar charged tone works first class!
No kitty poop piles this week
Though daily its cat poop I seek
There’s no turds on my lawn
I’m no longer forlorn
Cat’s crapping elsewhere, YES! I shriek!
I didn't buy a ticket, but somehow, I find myself here.
And not only that, to my chagrin, I am the main character in the show. Yes! Little ol' me.
But how could that be?
Well, let's start with some love and care, and a bit too much naivety. I'm not ashamed of the loving and caring parts, but perhaps I bought a ticket with my naivety.
Gossip, slander, lies, betrayal—a soap opera supreme.
My naivety got me starring in a smelly show with a 'crappy' theme.
Crap shooing boomboom
Throws all his money away.
Wonders why he's poor.
The toxins in dried sewage paste
Have left our farm land poison laced
This waste on crops spread
Won’t hurt if you’re dead
And doesn’t affect the food taste
Fertilizer’s best bargain brand
Is dried solid sludge on farm land
Now the food we eat
Contains something sweet
And our scientists want it banned
the more you spread, the more people will pay to get rid of the smell
I compose my poems like Wallace Stevens
by walking the streets of my town.
But unlike the esteemed Wallace Stevens,
I don't have to memorize or write my poems down.
I just turn on my cellphone's recorder,
then slowly whisper my word into it.
But instead of composing gems, like Wallace Stevens,
I tend to produce just a drivel of shhhhh~it.
Release the hounds
Call out the guard
Some simple fool
Crapped in my yard
Oh woe is me
Oh heavy sigh
Look at this poo
Piled a mile high
No words will help
No song be sung
Just tell me now
Who flung the dung
Life is a crap shoot
Roll dice, no guarantee
Good to be lucky!
lodged in fragrant loo
crap craves to be there for good...
loathes flush inventor
where is that little bear, Burt? Everyone asked.
finding him was deemed to be a cousins’ task
we knew he was in the sunflower field probably taking a nap
that’s when some of us got in trouble for saying “oh, crap!”
the adults can swear, it seems all right when it is them
But it better not be the kids in the family said Uncle Jim.
the sunflowers are prickly almost like thorns and they hurt.
We were all scuffed up and bleeding by the time we found Burt.
there is no mother nature ~ mere reality with her rolling pin
spreading an infinite universe ~ with no instructions on a tin
bring humanity into the mix ~ a strange ingredient comes in
the spit of droll intelligence ~ from our salivating menippean
# # #
Still from May Day, to the Summer solstice in June
a Helios vegan picks his nose daily, of the greenest legumes
By
David Kavanagh
My aunt Shay was creative, inventive and fun.
She made dolls for us out of scraps of our clothes.
It was terrific to see what she concocted and constructed.
She could make things out of ribbons, yarn, bits of nothing.
She was clever and playful, and the dolls reflected it.
She had the personality and the childlike qualities of a pixie.
CRAP SHOOT
Cap shoot
may suit.
No risk, no gain.
Challenge and venture!
Opportunity to capture.
May you succeed not run in vain.
Who cares for victory or defeat !
Make yourself sturdy and fit.
Life offers you chances.
Show your performances
to win or to loose
‘cause you decide to choose.
Shoot your films of life ! Take snaps,
not to shoot your dreams
ending in screams.
Crap shot to unravel marvels : Not craps.
11/20 /22
The Crap Shoot # 2
Contest by John Lawless
He rolls the dice just for fun
But then he goes on a run
Forgot that he had played for fun
But though that he had just won
Until he was shown the butt of a gun
Sub Categories
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.