Categories:
hanger on, word play,
Form: Footle
I am empty of empathy
come sympathise with me
Cue the violins,
or just fiddle
like a bad-tempered Roman
Offer me hope:
bring flamboyant symbols,
cheap gold pendants with wings
Maybe a big gaudy
unflappable albatross
nothing too flash,
mind you!
Take my hand,
lead me towards the edge
it’s time to fledge
Sidle me onward,
watch as I waver
Try not be over-critical
of the albatross
He’s become a hanger-on,
too far gone
and addicted to flattery
If I drag you down
or appear inhumane,
it’s all secondary
I’m merely feeling depressed
by a pouch in my brain
A séance sensed
it was next of kin,
X-rays revealed tiny pleats,
masses of tissue within folds of skin
An exorcist said it’s
my vestigial twin
Google diagnosed
(Visual agnosia)
taking shape from within
Oh! And the indifferent
chatbot I confided in,
has begun self-harming!
Categories:
hanger on, how i feel, mental
Form: Free verse
When dealing with a love-sick fool
One must be strict and must be strong
And follow this one simple rule
Don't let them be a hanger-on
One must be strict and must be strong
To bring such foolishness to end
And a new love then to begin
And follow this one simple rule
Say, "no", I know it's hard to do
But all else just would not be true
Don't let them be a hanger-on
You must just say a quick good-bye
No matter how I beg or cry
Categories:
hanger on, funny love, heartbreak,
Form: Rhyme
Placing
Not
Placement
So what's the difference
Substance, credibility and respect
i suppose
As only 1 as an individual
places with no regard for
critical acclaim
Whereas other's place seeking
success for themselves on
another's behalf
And go by or are known as
Manager's, Producer's, Executive's
Once they become just as famous
as chosen charge as entourage
and hanger on becomes and
is seen of as a skill worthy of
credit in itself
Categories:
hanger on, slam,
Form: Free verse
(edited for spelling typo)
I feel you burrowed down so deeply deep
I can't define that place where you reside.
You nag at me and keep me from my sleep.
I turn to left; then to the other side.
Oh, why have you returned? I thought you'd gone.
And yet . . . I think I'd vaguely felt you there -
a dark, plumed entity that lingers on
to taunt and tickle me from hidden lair.
Sensation I can't quell and I can't see -
sometimes I hack so hard I have the fear
I'll never flee what lives inside of me,
nor will you leave; too well you like it here.
Unwittingly you've been my muse tonight.
You kept me up and gave me cause to write!
Aug. 20, 2020 for Brian's Contest
Categories:
hanger on, how i feel,
Form: Sonnet
Farewell, Tinky Winky
You were purple, with a red
Handbag in your tinky hands
And hanger on your head
And you taught a generation
To say 'Uh Oh' to the sky
Tubby Bye Bye Tinky
Tubby Bye
© Gail Foster 23rd January 2018
Categories:
hanger on, character, death, goodbye, innocence,
Form: Rhyme
Speedier than lickety-split
Ready to jump tall structures in a hit
More powerful than an electric bolt
In a solitary bounding jolt
Look up in the sky!
It's a creature, lowly flying high
Think, it's a robot, I admit
Hmm, what is it?
Our own selves underneath, the vapid worn-out drapes
Hallucinogenic lights enlightening our shapes
Howbeit, the quiet mumble, hereupon
And the hum buzz wavering, of hanger-on
Murmuring about outside within sight
Their sharp edges cutting the night
It employs a spying eye
Every which way of the sky
By itself/oneself freaking out
Not realizing what could be about
All by one's lonesome, can't unwind at all
The observation in awe 'n appall
Tis' gathering data on- I for one and you
It's looking at all that we do
Why goodness- gracious, I bemoan
Why Yes! It's a DRONE!...
Categories:
hanger on, technology,
Form: Quatrain
It's the beat era
It's beat of the heat
It's beat deep to keep
It's beat start of the heart
It's beat frown and beaten down
It's the beat generation fascination
It's beat truth of the youth
It's beat faces of the places
It's beat displaying to zen praying
It's beat politic of the beatnik
It's the oldtown bohemian lowdown
It's beat in the street to meet
It's beat swaying to the playing
It's beat with a hanger-on' doppelganger
It's beat Lords of the beat adored
It's the beat of Kerouac yak
It's beat of Ginsberg dirge
It's beat of Burroughs prose
It's beat attitude of generation beatitude
It's beat of The Beat Generation feat
Categories:
hanger on, beauty, poetry,
Form: Free verse
Dear Fridge, you’re getting up in years. Oh, my!
How many now? You must be twenty-five!
The dishwasher already I’ve seen die.
How ever have YOU managed to survive?
Sir Oven also is a hanger-on,
But rarely do I spend my time with HIM!
I use his stove sometimes to cook upon.
Too bad you kitchen things can’t keep me slim!
You never rest! I open up your door.
The produce you’ve been keeping fresh I see;
The cheeses, breads, and butter, even more:
Cold casseroles and pizza tempting me!
I do not clean you often. That is mean!
I ought to prize more my appliance queen.
Categories:
hanger on, humor,
Form: Sonnet
Through lickings, like a Timex, my husband’s hard-core.
Evermore, heart ticking, he goes on.
They don’t make his model any more.
Not cut out for college, he gathered lore
in his craft; he learned it all, hands-on.
Through lickings, like a Timex, my husband’s hard core.
Into night he’d often work, his body sore,
developing both calluses and brawn.
They don’t make his model any more.
Once a fall from two floors up he bore!
Days later he was at his work by dawn.
Through lickings, like a Timex,my husband's hard-core.
Robbed and scammed; so much to abhor!
This self-made man felt like a woebegone.
They don’t make his model any more.
New trials that he never knew before
now face him, but he’s still a hanger-on.
Through lickings, like a Timex, my husband’s hard core.
They don’t make his model any more.
For the Anne's Favorite Poetry Form: Villanelle! (Any Subject)Poetry Contest
Categories:
hanger on, husband,
Form: Villanelle