Egad Poems | Examples

Ahhh, If God Were Here Right Now

if God were here right now,
i would offer him a slice of three layer lasagna
i wonder if He would ask for welches grape or purple wine
it would be a First Sunday
it would be the best venting dinner ever
i wonder if God would like garlic bread or texas toast
perhaps i should make a taco salad or one of them cobb salads
for dessert, i wonder if God is lactose intolerant
hmm, i think i will make Him some sugar cookies
i guess that would be safe
nevertheless, at least i know that God will be Good, Nonjudgmental Company
Going With The Flow With God Ain't Soundin' Bad At All Right Now
OOOPS!!!!  EGAD!!!!! (CENSORED [forgive me, Father God])!!!!! there goes the dad blasted alarm
the nights go by so fast when you have to work the next day
reality makes my stomach get that pre-work full feeling that i oftentimes get
ESPECIALLY ON MONDAYS.....LIKE TODAY!!!!!
ALEXA, PLAY BOOMTOWN RATS, AND YOU KNOW WHICH ONE!!!!!

Stick-To-It-Ness

Always been blessed with “stick-to-it-ness”
Got it from my dear old dad
He once rode a bike three hundred sixty miles
Took four days each way, egad!

At any age, that's quite an accomplishment
But my dad was sixty years old
From Montreal to Toronto and back again
A feat so gruelling, so bold

A wee one of ten back in nineteen forty-six
Didn't hit me till many years later
The impact of his enormous accomplishment
It then seemed a whole lot greater

Been telling this proud tale wherever I go
Bout inheriting his “stick-to-it-ness”
Don't think I can even come close to matching
The resolve and dedication he possessed

That's So Trivial

Someone is consumed with anger and has gone mad
Venting fitful words of ire ...how childish; how sad
Like a flock of loud crows
The noisy blah blah goes
It's so trite and trivial. Give it up. Egad!


Life is filled with locked doors wherever I may roam
But I will not cry 'wee wee wee' all the way  home
I'm not that little pig
And I don't give a fig
So froth doesn't drip from my mouth like rabid foam


If you've a bone to pick with others in the soup
Work it out instead of posting blog poems of poop
This is a poetry site
There's no need to fight
Don't be sneaky like a fox in a chicken coop

The Day the Refrigerator Went Mad

The day the refrigerator went mad
Was the day the butcher put out the ad
Read to me by my own weirdo stepdad
Who was a putz, a reprobate, a cad
I was but a boy of ten, just a lad
Near the waterfront was our ugly pad
Chops only sixty cents, and we were glad
Refrigerator on the blink was bad
Can you cook them when you get home, dear Chad?
It was my mom and she was truly rad
Not wanting to make her any more sad
Gave her an excuse that was iron-clad
Refrigerator yelled “good grief! Egad!”
He fixed himself and threw away his mad.
Most active frig that we had ever had.
I didn’t have to cook, and I was glad!

Colonel Flighty

Colonel Flighty is a cad
Thinks himself a funny wag
Thinks he's mighty, ain't that sad
"Look at me! A strutting stag!"

Jiggly belly, jowls that sag
Throat all phlegmy, such a drag
Trousers smelly, makes you gag
Leaky colostomy bag.

Toss him quickly drown a crag
If he lives we'll be so mad
End his sickly feeble brag
Hear his fading shout, "Egad!"

Do-It-Yourself Facelift

There was an old woman from Brighton

Whose face the small children would frighten

     “Egad, why these wrinkles?

     My eyes lost their twinkles!”

Her skin she used clothespins to tighten








*April 11, 2018

Sad Bad Mad Poem

I've got a poem,
its really rather sad,
I learned it many years ago,
From my dad,

Its all about a person,
that's very very glad
who had invented a new thing
that became an instant fad

It meant he got loads of money
and he bought a lovely pad
and loads of hot women
would pop round in a tad

But then one day
He acted like a cad
and his life it all went wrong
now hes a lonely lad

so never count your chickens
in a coop you never had
because one day you may be penniless
and you may well turn mad

this bloke he lost his marbles
ran around shorting loud, "Egad!"
now he is in desperation
gone to Syria, for Jihad.

A 31-Footle Poem

 Sherlock:
“The clock
Did chime 
The time
At which
My snitch
Appeared
And teared
With claims 
The game’s
Afoot.
I took
A look:
No crook,
No crime.
It’s time,
Watson.
 We’re done."

 Watson:
“You stun
Me, Holmes!
Your poems,
Egad!
Are bad!
Their rhymes 
At times
Are lame,
And shame
Your name 
And fame.
To write 
Such tripe,
Such verse
Perverse,
Will not 
A lot
Improve
 My groove!!”

“Doctor,
Abhor
My verse,
(Perverse
It be),
But see
That you 
Eschew
Verbose
Ripostes!
Though I'm
In rhyme
Abstruse,
Deduce
I must.
I trust
That you 
See through
My verse 
Rehearsed
To find
My mind
And what 
 I thought.”

Sticky Notes

As your memory begins to slow 
You write little notes to yourself
Don’t forget to pick up the laundry
And thaw out a meal for tonight.

I know I wrote a reminder
On that little yellow note pad
I stuck it in a special place
And now it’s missing, oh egad!

So the laundry is still waiting
Tonight’s dinner is still freezing
I think depending on these notes
Needs some serious rethinking.

Zero

plus or minus today on a cumulus of clouds keeping me from the stars
from my sofa I can do anything it's amazing 
the puzzle of life coming in a grid of ain't
isn't awesome the oer of over the top
flap your wings dear
you were right
I did
guess what
I feel a breeze
and take a soar above the firmament
now on a plane i am still for a minute turning to an hour
egad gee drat I never belong to a frat but know the alphabet
so I leave to figure the value of zero and ten fingers as if twelve i'll be a druid

Ouzatt

OWSZAT

The match was slow and boring
The runs were far between,
And an air of dreamy somnolence
Hung o’er the village green.
Then out from the pavilion
A handsome figure ran.
The crowd sat up, paid notice,
A loud applause began.
The stranger sprinted round the pitch
Disrupting all the match,
The fielder halted in his stride
And dropped an easy catch.
The umpire tried to intervene
His finger raised in protest,
The streaker slipped beneath his guard,
It really was no contest.
The team stood up and egged him on
And cheered as he gained speed,
It was a very daring act
They one and all agreed.
But when his little dangly bits
Removed the Home Team’s wicket,
A cry went roaring round the ground
“Egad Sir – that’s not cricket!”

Scarey Poem

let's start with a line and see where it leads
People like blood so I will make mine bleed

a zombie a chainsaw perhaps some bats
For good measure I'll throw in some black cats

I'm running out of ideas I think
Something is bad, it's a terrible stink

Have you heard the one, about the sparrow
He let loose excrement, on the Pharaoh

Oh what a horror, the bird felt so bad
The Pharoah in anger, yelled out egad

Archers at the ready, shot the bird down
Pharoah bit of wings, wore them on his gown

He fed the birdie to his own black cat
The cat so happy it meowed where it sat

Mummys and bats they make me want to scream
Most of the horrors come from my own dreams

Dancing disjointed, what do I have to loss
Bones I crunched, I removed with dental floss

Let's finish with a flurry, a mad dash
A horrible fungus, a scabby rash


Worst poem Contest

No Reflection

She slithers with niceties, fangs intact
Stealing your gaze with her manipulative act.

Can’t see her reflection, for there is none, egad!
You search for her heart but there’s none to be had

Does she think we don’t see her behind her wall
Waiting in lurk for a poor soul to fall

“Come my pretty” while casting her curse
She shrieks without warning a venomous verse

who created this monster void of a soul
not seeing pain in the hearts that she stole.

rival of angels, friends with the troll
hideous features, her looks on parole

am I being judgemental in making this claim
or am I just truthful with no one to blame.

She says "oh i'm sorry did I hurt you my dear"?
Her spiteful rhymes tell me, her aim was quite clear.

So slither on elsewhere to some other place
For I have no room for incompetent grace.

Stick-To-It-Ness

Always been blessed with “stick-to-it-ness”
Got it from my dear old dad
He once rode a bike three hundred sixty miles
Took four days each way, egad!

At any age, that's quite an accomplishment
But my dad was sixty years old
From Montreal to Toronto and back again
A feat so gruelling, so bold

A wee one of ten back in nineteen forty-six
Didn't hit me till many years later
The impact of his enormous accomplishment
It then seemed a whole lot greater

Been telling this proud tale wherever I go
Bout inheriting his “stick-to-it-ness”
Don't think I can even come close to matching
The resolve and dedication he possessed 

© Jack Ellison 2013


Sadly, he died of cancer at the young age of 67

David Livingstone

Long, long ago and longer
When I was but a child
I read of Doctor Livingstone
Who ventured in the wild.
Dr. David had no fear
He went where few had gone.
This missionary and explorer 
To Africa was drawn.
The unsophisticated natives
Didn’t know the wealth they had
Allowed Livingstone to name their falls
When he shouted out “Egad.
I’ve found what no white man has seen
I name it ‘Victoria Falls’”.
When back in England he was touted.
But lack of adventure palls.
He was sent back to Africa
To find source of the Nile.
He traveled around that continent
And became lost for a while.
Henry Morton Stanley when he found him, said
“Mr Livingstone  I presume?”
He died in the heart of Africa.
Westminster Abbey holds his tomb.

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