Grubby Poems | Examples

They Say

They say who lives, or dies
and what is the truth or lies.
That is what you voted for
they say, so don’t be sore
when, one day, you can’t drink beer
and you’re in jail for being dear
all your friends are scared to speak
because, they say, you are a freak.
And all you did was post on X
not even something, sordid, sex
but you just disagreed with them
they say, and now condemn
you as right-wing
whichever way you swing
for they don’t care or hear.
They say they know just who you are;
they tell that by your car,
what you eat, your zip code;
the car that’s just been towed.
You will do time for what you say
for free speech only goes one way
and you said something they don’t like
You dirty, grubby little tyke.

Ugly Monkey Wishes To Be A Dog

Gabby wailful goes wane
Gassy wagtail
Gruff white-livered
Grudging walleyed
Grubby wanton 
Grouchy warlike
Great weasel
Gross-out wicked
Grizzle whiney 
Going in will-o'-the-wisp
Going with his big baby

The Grifters

They do not spend their time at home
the way most families do 
Talking of the day’s events
and dreams they will pursue

Oh no, this family’s different
they’re led by dirty Don
Steeped in lifetime swindle
a master of the con

Bit coins, crypto, real estate
corrupt in every way
Saudi secret deals are how
these grubby grifters play

Now they have a new account
they’ll siphon from each day
It’s called the U.S. treasury 
no doubt, their greatest prey

Show Off

Rise and shine,

Know you are Divine,

You get to draw the line,

Let your heart and mind align,

Feel your energy intertwined,

Within all of your design.

Love is the light you shine,

Finding your way through the dark,

Your spark turns into a flame,

Lighting a fire to this game,

Life will never be the same,

Living free of guilt and shame,

I AM renaming my reality.

Reflecting what I wish to see,

I AM Shining so brightly,

Spreading love excitedly,

Showing it to everybody,

WARNING, It gets muddy,

Downright grubby and dirty,

And no matter how much it hurt me,

My reward Becomes eternity.

Surf Usurped

Hitchhiking by blurred station generic
Gypsy Flora slips anonymous, gravel
Grinds her heart of garbage, barbaric
Buried skeleton stirred, further travel 
Ticket to Keep It Secret

Scarred in fish guts grubby, harbour 
Heaves its putrid out to sea, amnesia 
Avails an arbour over bleak macabre 
Mutineer hurled ragdoll dumb, seizure
Saline dreams Dali delirium 


Draped clock face, Flora's flailing coma
Collides with shore, format felicitous
Ferocious ocean spews sweet soma
Segued fortunate Flora duplicitous 
Digs over fingers scratching 


Sea sparks zesty spirit, crystal clairvoyant 
Clavicle thrummed during tumble turquoise 
Touched pitching ceiling, delight buoyant 
Blackened flotsam, frivolous foam destroys
Destined to nest content




29th March 

Redefined

Imagine That

How far we've fallen.
About a half century ago
there was a young man 
living in John Lennon's Garden.
disillusioned- dirty -confused.
Outside his mansion John came out 
briefly chatting with the man
Inviting him in for a bite to eat.
Imagine that, treating a grubby stranger like a king.
Fast forward-2024 a couple nights before X-mas.
A woman fast asleep on a subway, 
set on fire by a mad man.
Imagine a hate so deep
to bring hell upon a stranger's dream.

Imagine that
artificial turf replacing natural grass.
My, how far we've fallen
       my-my
how far we've fallen.

Goblin Ghoul and Ghost

generous Gus, Greystone’s glaringly green goblin glided into the glades.
giving Ginny Graceful, a gruesome ghoul a glimpse of glorious shades.
gary, Gryffindor’s ghost glared at them; for where was his grubby gratuity?
goblin and ghost, goaded Gary, giving him grief about Glue city.
grandiose grisly girl-free graphic arts gleefully featured the grimy three.
Gladly giving grotesque features in the glade’s next grimy graphic glossy.

short abc poem

diabolical Denise denied doing deliberate dastardly deeds
easily evacuated energy and excitement from everyone
forewarning frantic free-wheeling freemasons from
giving grubby grimy greedy Denise a gratuity.

A China Cup

I saw it there and stopped for a while,
perched dainty at the top of the pile
of crockery, grubby, crazed and old
at the yard sale, waiting to be sold.
A teacup; white dots on baby blue;
the same my mother would sip her brew
of pale Earl Grey, in her Sunday best,
though only on days we had a guest;
usually her mother, my gran.
On matching plate, a strawberry flan
they ate, poured more tea, smoked cigarettes
talked about their woes and rising debts.
Other times, the cups were put away
in a glass cabinet, on display.
My sister and I would take them out
pour pretend tea from the teapot’s spout.
We always thought our mother didn’t know
she did; we found out a while ago.

“How much for the old blue cup,” I say
“ten cents,” he said, took it right away.”

Give Me Dust

Give me dust
Give me soil
Give me grubby knees
grass stains
and bruises
Give me sand in my hair
and bugs on my shirt
Fruit flies
butterflies
ladybugs and ants
The caterpillars falling from trees
The bumbles and buzzes of bees
Give me berries
to dry in my pocket
Give me rose hips
fresh peas
and oak leaves
Leave an acorn
a half-chewed cherry
a sunflower seed
Leave a feather
and give me a song
call the crickets
nocturnal cats
and chirpy bats
Give me the full moon
the blue moon
and the harvest moon
Give me clouds
when I’m out
Sunshine
when I’m in
Give me rain
and snow
and long nights
filled with stars
Give me wool
and warmth
and a cup of tea
from fallen leaves
And when it melts
Give me dust

Vanilla Crazed

Into the pantry, vanilla stash,
Into the cake, vanilla splash,
Take a swipe at the mixture, no matter how high the stake,
HEY, get your grubby finger out of my cake,
Spoon once, spoon twice, spoon 3 times, then more,
Into cake tins, I count 4,
Into the oven, two at a time,
Set the timer, wait for it to chime,
Out of the draw the oven gloves come,
Out of the cake tin, hardly wasting a crumb,
For a long time, on a cake rack it cools,
But now it's time to get my icing tools,
Into the pantry, vanilla stash,
Into the icing, vanilla splash.

The Clown

Sometimes poets tell a story
Sometimes they leave you guessing
The writing is cathartic
Like slowly melting snow.. de-stressing

Look closer and you'll find a muse
The Irish poets used them
Or maybe just artistic views
From paupers shoes to diadem

Who knows where inspiration can be found
From bland to fleeting moment
Where grubby urchin can be crowned
The pauper turning solvent

Life's circus has it's highs and lows
Sometimes up, then down
We want heroic. Lion tamer..
But ending up being clown

A poet's lot is heartache
A poet's lot is joy
We pour out hearts so wordy;
Grammatically deploy

A cavalcade of inner love
A waterfall of pain
It's time to stop, I know it is but
This circus rides again

Dearest Hot Shower

My dearest hot shower
You mean the world to me
You cleanse both body and mind
Always wake me up when sleepy

You warm and soothe my aching bones
At times wash away my tears
You let me sing my heart out
Without hands over ears

In times of sickness 
Your warmth helps heal
In times of sorrow
A warm cuddle l feel

When grubby from a days hard work
Or salty from the sea
You take the situation in hand
Washing the dirtiness from me

When l am freezing cold and reluctant
To come and visit you 
You continually beckon me
Until l see your point of view

You make me feel clean and fresh
Comforted and renewed
I love and need you in my life
Dearest hot shower….I could never live without you!!

Grim Reaper Greets Gremlin Gregg

grumpy grumbling grungy gregarious gremlin Greggory
gratefully grasped grainy grandma’s green grapes in glee
greathearted Gretchen greeted greenhorn grim-reaper with gee
grinning, groovy, grown grandson growled among grimy greenery

grandiose grim-reaper granted gratuities and graves gracefully,
grubby? Gruesome? Graphic? Gruff too Grandparents greedily agree.
gruff, gripping, grotesque, gratifying gravestones, grandiose in glee
grumpy grumbling grungy gregarious gremlin Gregg no longer will be.

My Town

The town I was born into was a grit incubating slum.

It was the worst of places yet had some gruff-faced
high-headed days.

On those few times
(days that did not seek to hammer me down
into the brick and rubble strewn ground),
I would walk like a lord-ling
in my own spit-rinsed and grubby manor.

I would swagger, daring all to cut the throat
of any withering word
or to blast the staring eyes and ogle-mouthed louts
as they came at me, only to ski-daggle or sidle.

In those long hours, in those dank drenched daylights
I would fight knuckle-hardy and win
then wear a trophy cut on my chin
that ached in the stony-breathed air.

I was a tough and scrawny king atop of his small heap
and the town bowed down to me until the next day
when it sought once more
                                  to murder my rough-hewn soul.

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