Nob Poems

Biscuits

What‘s better than a biscuit?

Hard to debunk 

Treasure trunk funk 

Should you let

It get wetter

Would you dare risk it?


The trick a quick dunk

Or could flunk..flick..kerplunk.. 

Mushy chunk sunk..messy junk

Slushy slunk..in the tea you drunk


So at your leisure

Pleasure one’s self

Don’t regret your stealth

Forget your health

Wealth beset on the shelf


So feeling restive?

Yearn for a digestive?

Appealing…suggestive

No shock..dark choc

What else will cut the mustard

With a brew…for a few bob

Recurring theme..does seem

Will always dream 

About a custard cream 

Almost sob…as I Lob

A hob-nob in me gob
 

Ta pour more cha

In fine fettle

Be a slob

Turn on the kettle

Bickies in the jar

On the sofa settle

Sins within tins

Spurn concern

Ignore the racket


As


Hats do doff

Knew from the off 

On a roll

The sole goal

Quaff another cuppa

Down your cake hole

Scoff the whole packet!

Lost my frequency

I lost the frequency long ago
At first it hadn’t seemed important
I could barely tell the difference
But once it was gone I couldn’t get it back

There was a time where that didn’t matter
Then it did
And it was too late

They tried turning the nob
Hoping the new frequency would work
But it never did

The nob would twist
Left and right
Back and forth
As they watched me like a animal
Waiting for a new reaction

I would try
Dance to the new sound
Sing the new song
It did work for a while
But the second I tired
they would turn up the volume
The seemed to think if they could drown me in the sound
I wouldn’t drown myself

Old Age and Ache

Old age and ache
Foot on brake pad
The shake stressing

Tibia’s throb
The knees nob and
Hobnob ankle twinge

Perhaps the doc
Takes off sock and
It’s all a crock

No thank you pain
Be no cane or
Slight strain of pace

Always be the real you

Her ability to be true to herself frightened teachers and snobs
She had a pet python named Tang, his nickname was Sobs.
Always be the real you was her motto, her mantra and her song.
She despised mean people; if they were around, she would not hob-nob.

Some New Found Friends

As a new resident in a rural farming community,
I was shown a picture of a black bear by a new
found friend.  Thinking this sighting to be news worthy,
I said, "Have you contacted the news media about this? "
With a respectful gaze, he informed me that bears were
Not uncommon in the area. I thought to myself that I never
'signed up for black bears' when I decided to relocate to Mississippi.
Other wildlife experiences have been: watching a stray cat eat a
wild rabbit. Stopping on a highway for a baby alligator to safely cross.
Being startled by a snake hanging from my back door, and my wife
Being shocked to see another snake wrapped around the door nob
of our front door. Experiencing a black bear greeting me at the window
as I was writing on my computer. Except for the baby alligator, none
of these wild life encounters were pleasant ones.

The Cupboard of My Heart Is Bare

morning blooms
i wilt in contrast
i will die looking out of the window
i will keep watching for you to come back home
afternoon glows
i fade in contrast
i will die looking out of the window
i will keep listening for you to turn the nob on that door branded with my broken heart
evening glistens
i darken even more in contrast
i will die looking out of the window
i will keep sniffing for even a small hint of your favorite perfume
sleep is a thing of the past like our love
the shirelles sing exactly what and how i feel
i worry none about eviction or homelessness
both begun the instant you said 'goodbye for good'
my hope is a mudpie with a careless footprint in it
the cupboard of my heart is bare
the foundation of my being will forever have a permanent tear

Son Soaked In the Sun

The Knight was knit on a knockout night. 
A batch of bare bears within blissful sight. 
Right rowed rode on rigorous royal insight. 
Whither or wither, writ warned of a worn write.   
 
Douse the drip and dowse to drum up dew. 
Alas allowed the altar rite to alter aloud knew.
Wax warmer upon waves of aqua blue. 
Caught in the caudle caudal circuit of one or two.

Halting hair like an idol, idle as a hush hare. 
Hearsay's hollows handle heinous and flare. 
Can a sane person seine in a water glare? 
I fear that a note knob rejects the nob affair.

Leaches of joy leech open or open-free. 
I will not feign the fane's favor as a feint fee. 
Dazes detained the deal to droop a drupe as a flea. 
If a blast blows a blue home, it finds a way to flee. 


Written: October 09, 2022

Homophone Rhyme Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Hat Bueckert

At Least I Am Trying

Milk
I try to pour myself a glass of milk
The milk thinks the counter is a glass

Notebook
I try to grab my notebook to write this now
The notebook slips down to the ground

Doorway
I try to walk through a doorway
What could go wrong?
My toe stubs the solid wall

Music!
Music can heal anything! Hey, it’s my favorite song!
I’m dancing and singing at the top of my lungs
The best part is coming up
Then right before the big chorus drop
My ears are magically too small
And to my delight, the earbuds fall

Toast!!
What is easier than toast?! Even I could manage that!
The toaster is opened and lo and behold
The bread is black as black

Nutella!!!
“Nutella can fix anything!” I thought
So I run to fetch my gold
I turn the nob then bam! 
My head meets the corner, the sharpest corner in fact
Now my vision is blurry and a heart beats in my head
A doctor will be seen for that!

Beautiful San Francisco

Beautiful San Francisco


						In Northern California,
						By the Bay,
						There it is,
						That beautiful city,
						It’s the city Tony Bennett
						Sings of
						“I Left My Heart in San Francisco”
						Those lovely trolley cars,
						Make it so unique,
						Nob Hill, a street we all know,
						Fisherman’s Wharf, an interesting
						Array of shops,
						That famous Golden Gate Bridge,
						My Dad told us he sailed by it
						On his way to Korea,
						During the Korean War,
						My whole family got to see
						San Francisco,
						For my Dad, it was special,
						Home to the 49ers football team,
						Beautiful San Francisco,
						In Northern California,
						By the Bay,
						There it is,
						That Beautiful City,
						It’s the city Tony Bennett
						Sings of
						“I Left My Heart in San Francisco”.

						Celine Rose Mariotti

Monday

Monday
Quick! Arm the army
Lucifer has gone barmy
Where’s the witch when we need her?
Having a strop, the silly mare
Stoke the anger of battle
This is more than tittle tattle

Rumours be damned
Satan’s got this thing planned
She primed up her flying disc
A big win came with equal risk
With luck her enemy would be drunk
His power,  nob and ego may have shrunk

Like the niceness he once had
Before he went all black and bad
Getting the boot from God upon high
So much became nigh!
It was up to the witch now
To turn the Devil into a cow!

With cunning and luck
She’ll hit him like a damn truck
And end this thing
Like a failed bloody fling
But that was impossible
Like a flying pig was possible










Juniper’s Daughter: Fookin' Weech

Nick Armbrister

Fatty Who Became Batty

Fatty Who Became Batty

What we could call Trump is fatty;
His character appears to be catty;
Always meant,
To be hell bent;
Is door nob who did become batty.

Jim Horn

Inside the Hilton Hotel With Rats

All I hear of Hilton Hotels is terrible,
making mistakes but taking the money, 
slanderous to staff now that ain’t funny, 
acting all proper job 
when a proper nob, 
discrimination I can prove 
seeing certain staff removed, 
we had no HR we could turn to
the manager had no concern for staff like you 
setting me up to be disciplined and sacked 
somewhat misfired though that plan, fact, 
and when I was eventually fired 
it was illegally done I’m no liar, 
if Hilton Hotels challenge this poem as libel 
then I will prove it’s not a lie I will, 
they keep managers that manage like monsters 
power mad heads become like satanic imposters,
this manager got sacked but still works for them
he's the manager of the York Hilton 
they charge too much 
care too little 
so to Hilton Hotels here’s my middle!!!

The Soldier

A soldier's tale about young Grover,
Though black, his duty called him over,
He survived the Front's futility,
Came home after 1918,
With his medals for bravery,
With valour, he beat the Hun,
Back here, society did him shun,
He came home, no man's slave,
Old comrades did not even wave,
As he marched in the Anzac Parade,
To them, he was an affront,
Though he battled on the Western Front,
He learnt that there was no change,
Their attitudes seemed very strange,
With him, they did not hob nob,
He had no hope of landing a job,
So, he sold his medals for grog from the pub,
Died alone, with his libation of love,
He had fought with such bravery,
But could not survive this bigotry,
Died under a bridge, his short life over,
Sad little tale, a soldier called Grover.

Door Knob a Fat Slob

Door Knob A Fat Slob

Of sense Trump only has a small dob,
Who was discovered to be a door nob;
A dumb  cluck;
Foot got stuck;
Difficult entering and sure is fat slob.

Jim Horn

Pay Up, Nobby

To Nobby Clarke I made a pledge 
that I would never give up trying, 
surrender all things (short of dying!) 
to find a rhyme for "Percy Sledge". 

Old Nobby thought he had the edge! 
But I, pure intellect applying, 
the glory of the challenge eyeing, 
came at it like a flying wedge! 

I didn't need to drudge or dredge. 
(It wasn't hard, there's no denying - 
no saturnine poetic sighing, 
like Keats beside his withered sedge). 

Now Nob has more than funds to hedge. 
Aware of rounds he'll soon be buying, 
beer into which he'll soon be crying, 
he's standing on his window ledge!

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