Flyswatter Poems | Examples

Hernley Grouses and Gripes

I wanted a larger sombrero, the spoiled child said.
Weird since she had a ten-gallon hat on her head
That’s all you are getting, her mother said sternly.
But she kept grousing and griping, this child named Hernly.

Her grandmother said “Fine, I will take the hat as my own.”
Hernly had such a fit, she was soon all alone
Except for her old-school grandmother who had a flyswatter.
What are you doing? Asked the naïve spoiled granddaughter.

Odds are on the Cloud

     as the black cloud
     descends 
     on his field
     the fierce scarecrow 
     springs to life…
     pink plastic
     flyswatter
     in each
     hand

Butterflys Wish

I would like to be a lady for a day the butterfly said.
Dressed in pinks and oranges, and perhaps a little red.
You cannot have it all, her godmother replied.
But I can make you yellow, and help you to glide.

So the butterfly turned into a lady on a warm Tuesday.
She glided into windows, but people shooed her away.
One tried to swat her with a flyswatter, and smacked her tail.
Turn me back into a butterfly, she yelped gliding off a rail.

Wiggle Butt Fly

come here quickly said my sister
her voice was two swishes above a whisper
see that fly up there on the east bedroom wall?
he showed me his butt, and it was not small.

I laughed at this craziness, for I did not know
the plotting butt-wiggling fly would soon dart below
He also wiggled his posterior at me, in my face!
It was bubbliciously big, a complete insect disgrace.

How dare you do that, you are harassing me! I said.
I got a flyswatter, determined to make that fly soon dead.
He laughed at my efforts and wiggled his butt again.
It was bigger this time, I swear, not at all thin.

We called in our mother who brought in some spray
But that butt-wiggling fly zipped out the window and got away.
Can you believe how brazen he was? My sister asked me.
I was watching the fly who was buzzing away in the form of a Z.

Summer Is

Summer is a cricket's chirp;
the croak of a bullfrog's burp
and a sweet nightingale's twirp.

A season beyond compare;
when wildlife thrives everywhere
and flowers perfume the air.

The whoosh of a flyswatter;
swimming pools of cool water
and warm days getting hotter.

The neighborhood kids at play;
outside till night claims the day
and stars are put on display.

An abundance of daylight;
an itchy mosquito bite
and a fledgling bird's first flight.

A time for love and romance;
opening your heart to chance
and dancing a moonlit dance.

A Day of Exception In Life

sitting in front of the toilet throwing up
everything is spinning 
everything is throbbing
when i get up, i feel like my body has bricks instead of bones
i go to lay down, but the pain, the nausea, and the dizziness has me all messed up
i begin to convulse again
i then jump up and zoom back to the bathroom
i made it just in time
this time the contents are all clear
this too is not good
i buckle down and drive to the emergency room
i find out that i have some type of contagious stomach bug
it all has me wanting to swallow a flyswatter
instead i head home and follow the doctor's orders
it is a good thing that i am off for the next three days
my bed is gonna be my bestest friend
my phone will be resting right along with me
all curtains will be closed
all knocks on my door will be intentionally ignored
i am determined to get my rest to wellness

If I Had a Giant Shoe Horn

if I Had
If I had a giant shoe horn
I would slide huge people into compact cars

If I had a giant flyswatter
I would smash rabid coyotes into pancakes

If I had a giant spatula
I would flip over your house to see your reaction

Are Horses As Brave As Cowboys

Their bridled haunt, each day may be their last; yeehaw.*
The narrow way, down mountainside, and clop of shoes.
The saddlebags dip left and right in gait and gnaw.
The spirit wind and pouring rain their hoofs refuse.

Begs me to ask, “Are horses as brave as cowboys?”
Lights’ heads bowed low to the path of perilous sight.
The kick of spurred heel, a “Giddyap,” of steel, “Go boy!”
They’re made to trek down mountainsides as stones ignite.

What’s turned ‘round the head of Roy, his slack rope in lead?
This corral dust, no it is fact, the slip and slide**
of horse-hide, ain’t no dignity of his tan breed.
No grave for him, his service blow is bonafide.

The cowboys “yip” and “holla” spittoon-chew and cussed.
Ornery snorts, flyswatter tails replay course sounds.
The clinch mountain, after hazardous ride, kicked dust
in snout of grieving herd; and buckskins stood their ground.

1/20/2021
Cowboy Poetry
Sponsor: Line Gauthier

*yeehaw - used to express delight. Here I’ve used sarcasm.
**corral dust - lies and tall tales
***clinch mountain - rye whiskey
HMS used for 12 syllable count. Site was off on 2 lines.

They Bring Me Gifts

They bring me gifts. Leaves, acorns, a flyswatter, mud off their shoes.
With big smiles and a happy attitude, they bring me gifts daily.
Yes, I am talking about the kindergarten students, the happy five’s.
And occasional sixes, who lose their front teeth rather gaily.

They bring me family conversations, and use inflection in their voices.
Now running toward the play dough center in the room’s corner.
They bring me funny stories. I applaud their non-selective choices.
Learning more than a therapist, bartender or beauty shop owner.

I smile all day at their drama, and their clever understated antics.
They have no idea they are hilarious. not realizing their own worth.
Poetry begs to write about them, so of course I comply with happiness.
They are real, honest, hilarious, and full of their own little middle earth.

Poetry Contest:  Compounding the Verse
Sponsor: Joseph May

Squish

Michael McGregor wielded a wild flyswatter
he used it in places he not aughter.
Each swat made a mess
causing wife distress 
so he up and ran off with their daughter.

Bees Short Lived Boo Boo

B rewing her potions one Halloween eve, Witch Hazel
R eceived a sting from a bee;
E liciting the response of a flyswatter smack.
V ulnerable bee, he lay upon the dark, dank floor.
I nstead of sweeping away, little bee, Witch Hazel
T hrew him into her brew and laughed with glee,
Y a, haha, ha, I’ve got you now, take that for your sting!

Flyswatter Soup

Fly swatter soup. Yum. Yum.
My palette is smiling. Mm Mm….
A rare delicacy, found only in the Midwest
If you live across the road from a pig farmer.
Best eaten in July, when the flies are biting.
Stomached by only a few. 
Yes, it is exactly as tasty as you think.
Can I count on you at six?
Bring a friend.

He Is a Liar and a Thief

When he lies
It is because his punishments have been so severe, that he knows 
He saves himself from the
Flyswatter,
The belt,
The whip,
The chain, 
The out-of-control anger
Disapproval, disappointment, 
And wrath
By lying.

When he steals it is
When he is hungry,
Or he is sad
That 
He will
Never have hope of attaining these things for himself
As all hope
Was beat out of him
A long time ago.
He is powerless, he is a child, of an angry, out-of-control parent.
Lying and stealing are not what contented, safe children do.

He Forgives So Goging On

disturbing buzzes horror terror  
                                       causes undeserving pain
                               God can swat with unseen flyswatter
                                     World's in the hands of God
                                 better to be obedient to keep safe
                                        He needs no reading 
                            every particles are seen clearly in advance
                                         from top to bottom
                                           in His thumb nail
                                      He forgives so going on?

Lazy Summer Day

Lazy Summer Day

Just another lazy summer day
In my hammock snoozing away.
A horde of nasty flies 
Decide to stop by. 
On my toes they want to play 
Shoo flies, just go away!

Now they're buzzing in my ear
Bring the flyswatter my dear!
These flies are going to die 
If they don't continue to fly, 
For one thing is clear 
A battle I do not fear.

Going in for the attack 
I had to step back. 
For one landed on my nose,
My eyes I had to close. 
Soon discovered the fact 
Killer instinct I lack.

Instead I fled, 
Swatting at my head. 
As they chased me down 
I felt like a clown. 
To the house I fled 
To hide under the bed.

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