Hitter Poems | Examples

List of Member Poems

Instagram is a sham!



So Instagram is a sham
Everyone seems smitten
With posts about a kitten
Or hosts who hate Britain
Or boasts so badly written
Toasts flam & are all bitten
Goddam is just like spam

Famalam use as a babysitter
Wham bam for any dimwitter
Won’t scram will be a big hitter
Instagram is just glam glitter

Oh please look at me vanity
Narcissist wheeze is insanity
Tease with another profanity
Disease crippling all humanity

Pedants on pews lives fritter
Algorithm queues like twitter
Bottom feeder ruse you critter
Needier travesty tapestry knitter
Greedier fuse lit & now shi*ter

Seedier impropriety just litter
Social media a society splitter 
Notoriety trolls scrolls flitter
Anxiety but folks will still titter
Piety for botox you’ll be fitter

Ham it up cash cow AI lie spitter  
Kowtow get no views so just bitter
Kapow a scam not some Ashram
Stop cropped photoshopped slop
They cram in a half baked pitta
Instagram is bust and just a sham

Premium Member In support of reality '

Of course i support.' Xyz, or maybe i'm just vain? To think i am any use.' A lone
Voice.. That refrains.'  Real supporters
Are paid for.' It happend on twitter.' Who
Am they kidding.? There is only ( One heavy
Hitter ) He is sitting beside me.' And all
Other folks ( if he's not in your reckoning)
Your efforts are bad jokes.' He is is the
Cause of creation, the supporter of all.'
And old satan.? Well he knows..How far
One can fall.' So i reckon wake up from the
Fake up.' And realise and grow..Blind faith
Is the best radar.' This world will ever know.'

Oxymoronic

AI?
Not with what 'A' stands for
in front of 'Insemination' or 'Intelligence'!
Facebook?
Not one look!
X/Twitter?
Not this heavy-hitter!
Spotify?
Not if I can help it!
ITube? YouTube? WeAllTube?
Not as it's DubiousTube!
Microsoft?
Not hardly what it ought to be!
Fast food?
Not food, fast? Possibly!
Wine is alcohol, alcohol a preservative,
in the U.S., to preserve wine,
they add sulfites and preserve a preservative!
Makes all the sense in the world to some,
but not me as, I live in a world of my own,
where artificial goes unknown,
population one, where I answer to none,
it's a concept of mine which I alone condone.


Premium Member Luther Vandross

Late, iconic R&B singer, Luther Vandross
Sang with a satin voice with coats of gloss.
As hitter of notes he never could go wrong.
"Dance With My Father" his last hit song.

Premium Member My Hubby Cheated On Me

You lied
I cried

Lie low
Hello

My dear
Her rear

Was flake
You snake

Slitter
Hitter

Batter
Scatter

Foul balls
Who falls

I did
You squid

I plea
Leave me

Your eyes
Like pies

And sweets
And tweets

That sing
And bling

That sate
Your plate

Without
A doubt

Peter
Cheater

Pumpin
Bumpkin

Bowwow 
Chow Chow

It's clear
Leave here


connie pachecho

1/12/25

Note-A prelude to this poem, "If I Were Your Love," dated 5/1/23.

Premium Member Powder River

Stepping to the plate, he stood at four foot eight. 
Sixty-seven pounds, that was the batter's weight.
You probably wouldn't think to look at this punk, 
that his club held a punch, as to bat, he slunk. 

Mister Monninger shouted a curious phrase - 
"powder river."  To the hitter, it conveys   
a sense of fearsome confidence and power.
Cocking the bat, he knew he'd be man of the hour.

First pitch, and that ball sailed o'er the grass of green.   
No lie.  It was the furthest anyone had seen. 
Yes, I was that batter boy, who played in tattered jeans, 
but I still don't know what "powder river" even means.


Premium Member Don't Say Boo

    ~ To the tune of 'Everybody Loves Somebody Sometimes ~
                             Sung by Dean Martin

            Everyone can lose a ballgame sometimes
                Even good teams go down to defeat
            Tonight, we’ll drown our sorrows
                Tomorrow’s win ~ so sweet

            Not every game’s a shut-out or no-hitter 
                The best of pitchers throws some home runs too
            And when might Casey swings – and misses
                Whatever you do ~ Don’t say boo

Premium Member Tiktock On a Rock

TickTock on a Rock

There was an elephant stuck on a rock
He had been rockin’ all around the clock 
He made a trunk call
The best news of all
He’s found fame doing video TikTok.

* * *

Nellie had finally found fame
On TikTok making her name
Then on Twitter
Became a big hitter
It’s the internet that's to blame. 

Written by:John Read

* * *

Standing

Just having to be erect
Supported by your two feet:
The posture that is correct
Before one whom others greet:
Bosses who would things direct
While ours are to matters treat…

Punishment for a sitter,
Sitters made to stand ‘bitter.’
You’re a brute - a hitter,
Attention lost some could dither;
They won’t talk nor smile either;
Now, gaps between you wider!

Elsewhere, it’s test of courage,
Long hours of it long carriage;
The flat-footed can’t it brave:
You’d be making one a slave…

For babies a crucial test,
Crawls dragged too long not the best;
A gift for mums East and West,
Babies reward milk from breast.

Bell and Horn Compared

Each time ringer sounds a bell
He has something big to tell;
Like driver who honks horn
And just few ears would it scorn…

News from Bell as from Horn sharp:
Messages on which lips harp;
A bell gets all men involved,
Sins of lateness not absolved;
Cars’ horns say you could be crushed,
Survivors to doctors rushed!

Each time hitter strikes a bell 
Things well might turn to hell:
Fast actions to leave one’s shell
To prevent yells of “Oh! Hell!”

Soldiers’ Horns for Approved Wars,
Bells of churches to change whores.

Big Or Little Hammer

Who’s been struck with even little hammer 
And his lips failed to curses yammer:
“Son-of-a-” not part of grammar:
For a blow, mortal, control stammer?

Struck with a big or a little hammer!
One is sure to enact a drama;
Golden voice hatching golden stammer,
Striker: replica of Osama 
While one is far flung from Obama: 
A writhing cut tail of Agama. 

The Hitter Bigger Monday Hammer 
Bound to give up any Akiyama 
And grossly cough Newest Yamaha!

Bitter Because Fitter

I had to be much bitter,
Sure of the two The Fitter...

Away hours he'd fritter
On some spot steady sitter,
Never chats ends with Rita,
Engulfed in things that glitter
Fears of what in me bitter
I could betray as a hitter,
Peter dropping like litter
And never picking him up
An "I shan't - have - again pup"

So, its a lucky Peter,
For whom things have been neater.

Won After Being Tied

with them had much pride
they won after being tied
felt happy inside

he had planned each pitch
to a hitter who would switch
ball did land in ditch

liked to inspire
he was a great umpire
who we had to hire

when we took a look
marker fell out of my book
with was used to cook

we had digested
steady stock be invested
which was suggested

cattle were grazing
all of them had been raising
loved and were praising

Premium Member Talking of Freedom Versus Turn-Key Unreason

Gb2 's a radio show, it airs in Sydney...But there's more to know.'
Ben Fordam has been speaking out,  on the covid dictates
Roundabout on where the science meets the facts
Whether it's all altruistic.? Or do some just act?

Also acts that block, that rile and shock; that lay down demands
That cost a lot..' Much production is de-railed; Aussie
Dreams now are ships with tattered sails, I hear that Ben is
Triple vaxed.. ) an early advocate, was his shout not so lax.'


Yet now he'll listen to anti-views ' To me that rings like
Dinkum news.' He' on facebook; and also twitter He's
A sounding board; and I'd reckon, a real heavy hitter.'
I haven't met the man as yet.' But I like the idea that
He's listening, and talking.' that's the part I really get.!

Go for it Ben,.' I will also here give mention to another
Australian heveyweight journalist Andrew Bolt a legend
In his time and this field, who has been questioning things
And even resigned, from the official endorsed media he
Was involved in, If I get time I will do him in  a piece also '

Cigarette Smoking Musician

An old man who looked somewhat young
But after he had a song sung
Held tightly to his right lung 
And to a nearby chair clung …

An Old Man who now truly looked it:
Blotches on a weak skin poorly lit;
He had many times dared a twitter
And in his lungs they proved a hitter …

Then, why wouldn’t he look much bitter
And accept that he did away an hour fritter

“Christ! The Goodwill Cigarettes at me flung”!

He’d henceforth be dodging them like dung;
In the spirit of a cigarette-smoking musician
Not wishing an early visit to a physician.

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