.
personally girl
thuh meat tastes
bettuh
mhmm
i'd lick'it 'to
your smile
unto nervous
yourn
'bout
mis largo dientes contra tus saddle
china
what's wrong with people?
it happened on a friday afternoon,
when i crashed through the gates of our compound
and saw my wife and son walking along the pathway
and i turned the corner
and hurdled over the speedbumps
to beat them to the front door
i reversed into the driveway
as they appeared from around the bend
walking with pace towards our house
i parked and proceeded to slowly
open the driver-side window
as they stood on the steps before the door
and at full volume came Largo al factotum
Figaro here, Figaro there,
Figaro up, Figaro down.
i looked at my wife expressionless.
my wife looked at me,
and proceeded to lead our son inside.
Oh, step inside and see the Lincoln bathroom.
This marble is a vision to behold.
The government might now be in a shutdown, but
Blame the Democrats, oh yes! Blame the Democrats, oh yes!
Did I mention faucets made of gold?
Blame the Democrats (like me)! The Republicans agree
That my White House plans are big and bold.
Oh, see the East Wing in a pile of rubble.
A massive ballroom will rise up instead,
Those needing SNAP funds may be having trouble, but
Blame the Democrats, like me, for the Democrats, you see
Are the reason children can’t get fed.
Blame the Democrats (like me)! The Republicans agree
Only feed the families voting red!
Though I was King of Mar-a-Largo,
The White House needed me to spruce things up.
Mt. Rushmore’s waiting for my face’s carving,
Or else my visage should be on a coin.
Planes are delayed and families are starving, but
Blame the Democrats, oh yes! They’re the reason for this mess.
Young Republicans need you to join!
Blame the Democrats! It seems even most of the Supremes
Take my side and bow right down to kiss my feet.
Oh, those Democrats, so blue, wonder what they’re gonna do
If three terms will make my life complete?
Sunday Morning Blues**
Whether it's the vibrant nights of Rio de Janeiro or the electric energy of Las Vegas nightlife,
I’ve indulged in two or three glasses of Twisted Ice Lemonade,
Or perhaps it was an Alabama Slammer. One lesson learned: never trust your memory!
My days and nights have been nothing less than a freight train ride,
And that's the truth!
I can’t forget the Cuban Bulldog that bit me
Three years ago, in Kissimmee, that’s a fact.
It left me weak in the knees,
All thanks to those potent drinks.
Was it that audacious, wild Long Island Iced Tea
That nearly took me down.
After watching a news clip about Muammar Gaddafi,
Or maybe it was an episode of Friends?
Yet, I met my sweet Marlon Brando,
And it was hallelujah and Amen in Key Largo.
So many bartenders, so many smoke-filled rooms,
And once again, here I am, tackling
Another Sunday morning blues head-on.
I found a shortcut and I was excited beyond belief
My husband was horrified, this shortcut gave him grief
I was taking a trip right through the most dangerous place in Chicago
But I am not a prissy, frightened stuck-up woman, I do not do Mar-a-largo
My husband begged me to never take this shortcut again.
Naturally, I ignored his craziness, but kept my secret in.
Shall our neighbor to the Great White North
become our fifty-first state?
To be proudly crowned their eleventh province might prove a better fate
Fresh air, clear lakes and grand vistas not to be beat
Maro-O-largo/Maple Leaf Hotel would make such a grand winter retreat
Call me a Tory turncoat if you must and I'll heartily agree
Oh Canada, my Canada, I'll stand on guard for thee!
My bathroom isn’t big enough
For boxes filled with files,
Though someone’s bathroom we all know
Has cartons stacked in piles.
The government’s top secrets
Share a space, perhaps, with Charmin,
Or Renuzit, Dove or Lysol,
All incredibly alarmin.’
For the guests at Mar-a-Largo,
If a bathroom they were needing,
We must hope they didn’t poke around
In search of some light reading.
Donald Trump could be
doing Jailhouse Rock.
DOJ has his head on
A chopping block.
Trumped up on
charges that
Include espionage.
Donald trying to do
The duck and dodge.
The ex-President
has dug himself in
a deep hole.
Things are starting
To spin Out of control.
A Grand Jury of peers
Signed the indictment.
Donald Trump could
Be wearing stripes
in confinement.
Mr. Jack White a
vicious opponent.
Trump is in denial,
He'll never own it.
The Feds have a 95%
Conviction rate.
This is Karma serving
Up fate.
Trump is tweeting
Somewhere in Mar a largo.
The Wheels of Justice
turn slow.
I wonder if they will
Try him as an adult?
He is claiming none
Of this is his fault
Mr. Trump is starting to
Look a little jittery.
One thing is for sure this
Will make history.
Turbo1904?
Cantrix spoke
F=gmm/r^2
Cantar replied
F=gm1m2/d2
Adagio Censendo,, they wished disturbed to
Ballads aren't the only way to convey musical
Commutation. Poems often are rhythmic
To produce are movement of words were
It begans the sequence needed to make tones
And define the require type of singer to gain
What's needed, to differ novice and professional.
Somber evenings have you
Might the world readjust
We are lovers
You are my lover
Others are outta luck
Might I delight in
Loves benifets
Vivase intros the kiss
Boo'd in Venice
By
Adagio Crescendo
Conductor
Music arranger
He married Vivase Largo
His family wished them
Separated, due to her
Lack of respect of her
In laws musical past.
She failed
When questioned
about a famous old song
She awnsered by saying
She sounds like she's
Sitting on a watermelon
Spitting seeds, "pout ting!"
Slips marked and mapped across the intercoastal waterways
a scanning breached out of high low tidal waves,
silent, still, obscure, and not well hidden
liveaboards hold steady isolated sheltered misgivings;
embedded and anchored in place
buoys secure contested living space,
Matanzas Pass, Sarasota fields, Titusville and Sunset Bay
the Gulf Stream Key Largo flow a mainstay;
honker down between the wind, the rain, and sun
vessels sturdy and rickety, short and long - all come,
house and home hum interludes for a sing-along,
push aways and pull in tights
safeaways and derelicts amidst stormy plights
resident and transient, occupied and abandoned
faceless vacancies, sequestered and random,
marinas and harbors within hurricane holds in tandem,
dockmasters and dock slips. environmental folds alluring
beleaguered and bewildered landlocked sailors touring
in their trawlers, boats, cruisers and yachts adoring
September shelters in the Florida moorings.
Warm spring breezes come home to stay
After a vacation in the southern hemisphere,
Where they stayed on a Caribbean cay.
Escaping winter’s bitter snow and ice here,
In December they spent a week on Largo Key
Wafting softly under the sky blue and clear.
Every other season the warm breezes roam,
But they know they are expected to stay
For the springtime in Kentucky, my home.
We welcome them especially on Derby day
Which comes every first Saturday in May.
May 31, 2021
Othello was playing the Cello
That may come as a surprise
He was sad and mellow about the deaths and lies
He played very softly
Then stabbed himself and died
Raspberry tea and cheese scones for me
Grape Gatorade and chuck bones for he
Galoshes, wool coat plus scarf and muffs
Flannel vest, crafted jeans, rolled up cuffs
A winter’s walk and a time to talk we go
Lots of fluffy snow and rivers don’t flow
Frosty air stings, chills and shivers it brings
Footprints left behind, two and four a kind
Today is not a picnic nor is tomorrow’s report
Would be better lounging at a Key Largo resort
Nevertheless we are palsy wellsy, best of friends
Walking the neighborhood, dressed in odds and ends
i woke
hard
ly notic
ing
that she
she is
nude modeling
i am
crudely drawing
her figure
with words
refreshing my page
on my computer
on my paper
erasing
distasteful mistakes
taking away
layers of lost years
res
urrect
ing myself
in 2/4
cut time
asking the metronome
to slow to largo
so i can
dance
with her flames
the heart of fire
is heat
in heat
i find
her
one time
i did this once
hands held
over
a bum's barrel
in a Boston barrio
her torso
torturing me
to a fever pitch
throw
another poem in
With pegs and pins in a bucket that’s full,
She hangs her music to dry,
Where it hums a tune majestically soft,
And it hums it up to the sky,
And the Lento and Largo sways in the breeze,
The Staccato hangs with the blues,
And the Accent hangs on the opposite side,
Hangs with its bright dancing shoes,
Every day she hangs her music to dry,
With a beautiful song in her mind,
Every day she hangs each note in the air,
Up on her musical line.
Sub Categories
Looking for the formal definition, structure, and history of this poetry form? Visit the Poetry Dictionary entry below. Then return to explore how PoetrySoup members bring the form to life through their own poems.