Mr. Poems | Examples

Mr Dee

Mr. Dee, the down and out, downcast, downhearted cat
broody, moody, gloomy and in no way fat
dejected, rejected, chased off by some
oppressed, depressed, droopy and rather glum
could not trust people after he was thrown away
buoying him up now is my brilliant cat-loving Aunt Fay.

Mr Math

we call him Mr. Math
Arithmetic is his path
itemizing and adding are his fun
counting numbers until day is done

multiplication is his thing
he’ll never buy a diamond ring
figuring taxes is what he likes to do
he does not have math phobia like me and you.

Mr Softy

The Illinois emperor favors no bail for the violent
he's a softy in the middle and more so on crime
From his bullhorn pulpit he proclaims that we're safe
I'm afraid the land of Lincoln is made of paper mâché.

He lives in a crystal bubble in a billionaire's den 
with state-of-the-art, impenetrable defenses.
He hates the 2A and the working-class men
his weapon of choice is a red headed commie pen.

His next plan is to mix wildlife into our lives
like lions and elk and black bear... oh my.
He's caved to the lobbyist and tree hugger friends
while playing with his snubbie under a wooden desk...
but the citizens of cook county keep voting him in
he bribes them with freebies and slaps on the wrist.

Mr Macron Thinks Things will be Fine

        Mr. Macron now recognizes ‘Palestine’
           a country that never was, that never had borders
        He somehow thinks that things will be ‘fine’
           with Hamas in charge of ‘law and order’ 

        Mr. Macron now recognizes ‘Palestine’ 
           whose people claim the land ‘from the river to the sea’
        He somehow thinks that things will be fine
           that such people will coexist with Israel peacefully  

        Mr. Macron now recognizes ‘Palestine’ 
          though its Arabs came there to reap Jewish-Israel’s goldmine…* 
        Mr. Macron, it is the Jews who are indigenous to the land
           No ‘recognition’ of yours can divvy up their sand



        ________________________________________________
        *"Far from being an indigenous people, supplanted by Jewish
          migrants, a close look at Palestinian origins and censuses
          suggests most Arabs emigrated to Palestine alongside or 
          even after the Jewish immigration. ~ NSJ, National Secu-
          rity Journal, 'Pandora's Box Opened,' July 25, 2025, MSN.

Mr Mustard Comes Tonight

Rig rag
Shaggy rag
Rip, rip, rip,
Wrinkle in the water
A wilder whisper
Crepuscular crème brûlée.

What is madness really?
Have I not a wordly thought?
Wordly jumble,
Words, words, words,
Coherent as a Dostoevsky mumble. 
Musing wrists and elbows in a swaddle,
Up of green and purple trumpets, 
Sickly technicolour cuddle.

Circadian bunny pudding.
Hullo, there it is again!
I saw it there, just there!
Did not. But so I did!

I’m not mad, I saw it there.
A rig rag shaggy rag?
No, not that.
You did not see it — no. 
It’s gone now — half a moment.
Is it there? The level jelly?
Come with us, dearie. 

Cuddle cuddle,
Jelly swaddle. 
Sleep a day or nine. 
Till it wears off, the custard killer.
Mr. Mustard comes tonight.

Mr Machiavelli

I have been reborn and have soared with aggressive force out of my coffin
 As I emerge from the cosmic womb covered in my Mother's blood
 Now I'm creator, now I'm universe.

Mr and Mrs Heartbroken

The first heart attack was quite mild:
he put it down to indigestion 
at first, but the pain persisted.
Some pills and lectures on lifestyle changes
followed the stay in hospital.
Yes, he'd try to stop smoking, he said,
and to cut out the fatty foods.
But the craving for cigarettes 
was too strong and he secretly smoked,
while assuring me that he'd quit!
The next heart attack was much worse;
he really did try after that -
a fat-free diet was no fun
and nicotine patches were no help...
but he stuck to it for a while
(I think it was a week, maybe two).
Then I smelt the smoke on his clothes,
saw him wolfing down bacon sandwiches,
slyly like a naughty schoolboy.
By then I pretended I didn't know - 
my nagging was killing him, he said.
The third heart attack finished him.
I'm heartbroken that his heart was broken...

The Prophecies of Mr Adams

Streets are filling with needles, disease and narcissist
the airways rimmed with demands for respect
if you don't agree 100 % they'll ring your neck
and your next of kin.
people turn to plants and spirit to retrieve their souls
not realizing until it's too late
that they've flushed it all down the toilet bowl...
grasping blindly through turds of madness...
Directionless.

they turn from Love and God into the blow hole
of influencers u tubers and tic tockers 
dolphin people living for clicks...
looking to make a name for themselves
not through talent, class and hard work 
but through shock and crassness.

I once had a teacher (frustrated by our terminal self-centeredness')
who once told a bunch of giggling know it all kids...
" One day the world is going to scare the living hell out of you".
How right you were Mr. Adams.
How right you were.

MR ULEZ

Noel wilcox is pushing on..Lets hope he gets old
Sad-dik to stop carrying on so strong; yet wrong'

Mr Flip-Flop

Going barefoot feels fine at the time
and wearing shoes do too
but sometimes I need something light
something not quite so tight only sandals will do
going barefoot feels fine now and then
and donning boots do too
but sometimes I want something loose
something I can put to good use only sandals come through
sandals always do the trick
and of the pack I had my pick
but wish I knew what makes them tick
and get a handle on these my brand new sandals
they didn't cost a lot of money
but when I walk my feet sound funny
flip-flop flip-flop
my right goes flip my left goes flop
flip-flop flip-flop all day long until I stop
tho' they're really no good for running
I'm footloose and fancy-free
and if you hear a flip-flop coming
hey that'll be me
flip-flop flip-flop flip-flop flip-flop

Mr Introvert

I'm scared to speak, my heart beats fast,
Fear of judgment, fear of being last,
My words get jumbled, my voice does quake,
I'm an introvert, my heart does ache.

When called to speak, I feel like I'm falling,
My words get stuck, my voice keeps calling,
I want to pour out my heart, but I'm afraid,
Of being wrong, of not being well received or praised.

But being an introvert doesn't mean I'm weak,
I've got wisdom to share, I've got words to speak,
I've got to dig deep, to find the perfect way,
To bless the community, to seize the day.

Don't let fear hold you back, don't procrastinate,
Come out of your shade, don't hesitate,
Your hidden heart will stay hidden, until you share,
Your wisdom, your words, your voice, your care.

Being yourself is key, don't be afraid,
Your uniqueness is what the world has made,
So come out, speak up, don't be shy,
Your voice matters, your words can fly.

You got this, don't let fear take control,
You're strong, you're brave, you're worthy of goal,
Come out of your shade, shine your light,
You'll be amazed at what you can ignite.

Your voice is powerful, don't let it fade.

Mr Potato

Mr. Potato
a.k.a., Spud Murphy

'I'll have another cigarette,'
as John Lennon (1940 – 1980) writ,
'And curse Sir Walter Raleigh (1552 – 1618)
he was such a stupid git.'
However,
(altho' to his cost)
it may have
gone to his head
(which, unluckily, later he lost),
Raleigh introduced
the noble potato
(the blight of Ireland)
into Britain — ca. 1586,
and what's more
tobacco it did eclipse,
so yes indeed, his is the face
that launched a thousand chips.

Lyrics of Mr tambourine

Mr tambourine man played a song for me 
Why does Mr musician play a song for you ?
I'm crazy 
Crazy people need a tamboriner .

I bet every one in the world is crazy it only matters 
The degree of craziness 

I will not go to the grave because 
When I go to the grave my head will be high 

Wage wage till the dying of the light 
For the light shines brightest in the darkness 
The beauty of all things is when it gets ugly .

An Even More Minor Tribute To Mr Dylan

An Even More Minor Tribute To Mr Dylan

Bob Became A Christian

But

Jesus Was A Jew.

"You've Gotta Lotta Nerve."

-Gray Squirrel

05-23-2025

Mr Bojangles-Piano Man

Piano man was what he said he was called.
Percussion he didn’t need to keep us enthralled.
Pianoforte, this was his instrument of choice.
Pacifying and entertaining with his velvet voice.

Piano man hit heights. 
Please play those black and whites.	
Pick a tune with pazazz. 
Play that great old time Jazz.

Phrase those songs to tap our feet.
Pure honkey tonk, most complete. 
Put old time feelings, sweet. 
Perfection, feel the beat.

Play those ivory keys. 
Plant new notes with such ease.
Piano man, don’t stop. 
Please don’t play that hip hop. 

Play us a jazzy tune. 
Pleasure that we can croon. 
Praising life, an all its ways.
Pitch is off, piano has seen better days.

Pure music-its still there.
Pretty sweet melodies fill the air.
Piano man, play any song you please.
Played as he laughed and tickled the keys.

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