Long Klutzy Poems
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Look this is not a ‘Bang Up To The Elephant’ poem
It splits licks like ‘Bit Buttered Up The Bacon’ but
Come on don’t we poets like forgotten phrases
Klutzy Kai is not ‘Smothering A Parrot’ does not drink
Except those mysterious phrases that do not ‘Kill The Canary’
To win or not to win a contest is not the quirky question
Yours truly is ‘Mad As Hops’ but not ‘Tight As A Boiled Owl’
Such a ‘Tatur-Trap’ ‘Dash My Wig’
Pure ‘Skilamalink ‘Umber-Cum-Stumble’ ‘Whooperups’
Lost in ‘Battyfang’ ‘Podsnappery’
Irksome or ‘Goddie gum drops’ 'Jolly Hockey Sticks'
To the tee and ‘Damfino’ if Kai knows what he means but his
'Saucebox’ had ‘Nanty Narking’ now ? Splickety Licks?
08th April 2018
Written for the Acrostic Contest 'Lickety Split'
I used the plural deliberately, because words come very rapidly.
Time for some funnies
Now what shall I write?
About klutzy old Jackles?
Should be a delight!
Been quite renowned
For his blunders at times
Here are a few
Of his more classical kind!
Riding his bike
And passing parked cars
Door opens... a collision...
He falls on his ****!
Floating on icebergs
And under some bridges
Berg disappears...
Water temperature's frigid!
Trying to impress
This acquaintance of old
Talked for a while
Then walk into a pole!
Oblivious, don't notice
While strolling with friends
A crotch high stake...
Doubled over I bend!
They weren't always funny
Well not at the time
Luckily, the injuries
Weren't the serious kind!
Gobble
Gobble gobble,
that's what they say,
nearly every day...
I go out to greet them.
I go out to meet them.
I go out to feed them,
I need them,
as they make me laugh.
They are clumsy they are klutzy,
they are ballerinas in training too.
I mean to tell you...
all
about
them.
They have long necks,
and big feet,
not to mention
they will eat...
everything you don't want them to,
and nothing that you do.
The silly birds...
ride around on the goats.
They are like parade floats.
They walk in the water trays,
and swim in the trough.
I tell you turkeys over chickens
are a little off.
Time for some funnies
Now what shall I write?
About klutzy old Jackles?
Should be a delight!
Been quite renowned
For his blunders at times
Here are a few
Of his more classical kind!
Riding his bike
And passing a parked car
Door opens... a collision...
He falls on his ****!
Floating on icebergs
And under some bridges
Berg disappears...
Water quite frigid!
Trying to impress
This acquaintance of old
Talked for a while
Then walked into a pole!
Oblivious, don't notice
While strolling with friends
A crotch high stake...
Doubled over I bend!
They weren't always funny
Well not at the time
Luckily, the injuries
Weren't the serious kind!
I stepped on a lizard on new year's day,
then I slipped and I screamed
and hit my shoulder on the fridge,
toppling the chair,
scaring people at home.
Ahhh, klutzy me on the first day of the year
thinking now,
it is funny, when I imagine
myself sprawled on the floor.
In all honesty,
it was the thought of
killing the lizard that horrified me,
the act of hurting it
feeling that squish,
bruising that flesh,
breaking the itty itty bones
dear goodness,
how in the world can I step
on a lizard?!
imagine my sort of relief
to see the broken off tail
on the floor
thank God for survival mechanisms
the tail was still twitching,
another shorter piece fell off,
and yet I still wonder...
Is that lizard alive?
Did it actually make it?
Is it still hurting?
When will it heal?
Is it traumatized?
Was it pregnant?
I don't know why,
but that last question popped to mind
when I saw the shorter piece,
I even thought it was an egg...
Sighs.
I hope it's ok,
will be ok. I really do.
Sorry lizard, I truly am.
0101022014
She's thirty-three, single,
her Mom babysits her
five year old son.
She reassures herself it's
just two more hours,
then it's the blessed weekend.
Which means delicious sleep.
She has no nest egg,
she's just getting by.
There is one kind aging matron
who makes her lunch when she
cleans her large stately home.
Yet, other well-to-do homeowners
cast their false superiority heavy
in the air as she imagines wiping
off their smug faces with Pledge.
She hums to a catchy pop tune
while scrubbing toilets and
spraying down whirlpool bathtubs
as her muscles ache,
wishing she could soak in one.
Maid for the ungrateful,
she smiles remembering her
First Holy Communion,
her snow-white lacy veil,
with her rosary of pearlescent
ivory beads.
Then, a memory of
teenage politics of high school
with random daydreams like
impromptu snapshots.
Her lips and throat dry from
those wretched aerosol sprays,
always forgetting her face mask.
A few sips of tepid Gatorade,
as she softly prays her son will
excel in school.
Her learning disabilities held
her back despite her gift of
intelligence.
This day's cleaning was at the
home of a lawyer's snooty wife,
who was lunching with friends
after klutzy attempts at tennis
at the country club.
Maid for the ungrateful,
can hardly wait to get home
to soak her worn feet with
warm water and Epsom salt
in a porcelain basin. ~
Time for some giggles
Now what shall I write?
About klutzy old Jack?
Should be a delight!
Been quite renowned
For his blunders at times
Here are a few
Of his more classical kind!
Riding his bike
Passing a parked car
Door opens... a collision...
He falls on his ****!
Floating on icebergs
And under some bridges
Berg disappears...
Water quite frigid!
Trying to impress
This acquaintance of old
Talked for a while
And walked into a pole!
Oblivious, don't notice
While strolling with friends
A crotch high stake...
Doubled over I bend!
They weren't always funny
Well not at the time
Luckily, the injuries
Weren't the serious kind!
© Jack Ellison 2014
Damn anticipatory anxiety affliction...
trumps volition (mine) to don employee hat!
Until the grim reaper
whisks yours truly away
common joe just biden his time
chronologically old fogey
(albeit boyish looking goodfella)
at moon shadows he doth bay
meanwhile stricken with
dripping wet sweaty palms,
perhaps attired with
trademark Harris tweed
this August twelfth
two thousand twenty dog day,
viz just the mere thought
to seek part time employment -
cuz I wanna supplement
(social security disability) income
perhaps out of desperation
selling myself short on eBay
unless an anonymous reader
espies adept ace at foreplay
i.e. whereby his linkedin word choice
oft times evokes double entendre
essentially this poetaster
at large concocts gourmet
reasonably rhyming literary cuisine -
thus hip hip hooray
invariably an anonymous
respondent will inveigh
against playful badinage,
and/or perchance some grumpy
humorless cat (woman)
originally whose nine lives spent
housed within San Jose
will take objection with base (sic)
lame ribaldry (mine) laughable
courtesy none other than kkk,
(kooky, klutzy, and kitschy tendency)
who though reformed Caucasian Jew
coon sitter me laughingstock, nevertheless
(modesty notwithstanding)
he brews the best latte
this side of Schwenksville, Pennsylvania,
where whiplashing, madding, and
clamoring crowd fuels melee
along Perkiomen trail
over hills and across Atlantic Ocean
eventually leads to Norway,
which namesake river from “Pakihmomink,”
or “where the cranberries grow.”
Rather than get further
bogged down with inane zeal
I best steer clear of poetic poppycock
courtesy imaginary wheel
thus the following pablum I unveil
nsync with titled malady all to real,
which plight involves hyperhidrosis
quite a debilitating ordeal,
especially when thinking
to pursue gainful employment
emphatically steadfast
and honest think (me) leal
course this humble communicates
(hyperbolically) embodiment ideal
if seeking to gain insight how I feel
about myself, a tense body
inept to cartwheel.
Santa Claus was bellowing, things were wacked,
the giant red sleigh was packed,
the reindeer weren't harnessed up,
he stomped in the snow, broke his cocoa cup.
Suddenly, there in the far end of the barn,
what he saw caused alarm,
Rudolph was playing poker,
he was blitzed, being a joker.
Santa's face was beet red,
"Rudolph, get harnessed for the sled!"
Well, Rudolph was lit up in the wrong way,
and slurred his words to disrespectfully say.
"Hey Santa, I'm not freezing my jingle bells,
in the sky tonight, I'm in a drunken spell,"
Morty, the klutzy moose was at the barn door,
"Santa, my fellow moose and I will get you off the floor!"
And, by golly, they took the sleigh into the night,
a team of moose led by Morty's benevolent might,
Christmas Eve was saved,
and Rudolph and his team were in shame.
Santa forgave them in a few days,
because they began to go to AA,
and, in the following New Year,
they were once again Santa's favorite reindeer!