P. Poems - Poems about P.

P is for Poetry

Praise my poetry prowess
I'm a man not a mouse
With my prose and my rhyme

Yes my ego's been soused
And is big as a house
At least most of the time 

When level, I canter
I revel in banter
I'm not anyone's mime

Put me up on that stage 
Though I don't act my age
And I'm well past my prime

So come

P Q R S T U

Plain Jane Mrs. Poindexter Perry
Questioned quipster with a quarrelsome query
riling him up, down, on top and around
sappy sarcasm certainly not very sound
tearjerking interrogation turning treacherous
uncontrite interview unequivocally uncourteous

H P, source'

Flying high or very low.? Airplane hire lU K.' Who would
Know? Fantastic fighter jets..On H P..' Could they be
Repossesd if there is welfare turbulence.? Oh dearie
Dearie; dearie,
 me.'

P And Q

P: "Why are girls with beautiful voices so alluring?"
Q: "Diaphragm?..."

P: "How do boys sing well without using their diaphragm?"
Q:  "Tonsillitis?..."

P H E W

As the heat subsided
A cool grayness crept in
Exhausted shadows slept
Limp leaves exhaled hope
Open windows inhaled it

G H I J K L M N O P Q R

granite gargoyles in Greg’s garden
happily high-fived handshake that hardened
Introducing indigenous iris to Illinois
jubilantly jiggling their midwestern joy
kings of the garden we are, said the giant gargoyle
laughing and loving their role, they spit into the soil
most of the fey rolled their eyes at the two
nay said a petunia troll, unsure what he could do
outstandingly confident said

L M N O P

lively little lovely lithe lambs
merrily milling around Marty’s Milwaukee
nibbling nutty Nabisco nuggets
outstandingly joyful and childlike
prancing prettily like playful petite ponies

L M N O P

Lively little lucky Lucy Lulu
Manages milk cows who cannot moo
Noting Nor a Nebraska Gnu
Overseeing the ornery ocean blue
Providing pike for little Lucy Lulu

C R I S P Y

Crunchy and crusty
Rippled chips
Ideally fragile
Salty
Providing a
Yummy snap

P Honoring the Saints Relics and Images

The 1st Commandment does not forbid us to honor the saints in Heaven

As long as we do not give them the honor that belongs to Eternal God alone

When we pray to the saints we ask them to offer their prayers to Eternal God for us

We do not pray to the crucifix

Or the images of Father

Your Choice P Hardware Girl

The first poem I posted on Soup. One of the first 200 poems I deleted. I found a rough copy in an old scribble book.

Hardware Blues. 
My dad he went down fighting, to keep his local hardware store 
But the big boys took his customers and the bank said “Shut the door”. 
He had sales

K L M N O P

Keep out of the kale and the captain’s keg
Lazy light foot like you could lose your leg
Miserable moments mastered by minion Meg
Never needless, yet not necessary without a doubt
Olive Orangutan outrageously opted out
Providing persnickety persimmons a playful pout

M N O P

Mud puddle Marvin makes messy mixes
Never nailed Nanette notices noodles by nixes
Ostentatious Oscar organizes oatmeal fixes
Providing proof personified, pixie counts by sixes

P Q R S

Paula persnickety poppycock provided proof
Questioning quarrelsome quick-witted quail
Responsible radicals reacted, reminding raised roof
Shopworn shortbread shakes shifty ships and shale

P is for Pangolin

In an alphabet book that my grandson once liked,
One page unfamiliar to me
Which, in turn, got my curiosity spiked,
Was the animal listed for P.

For a pangolin isn’t your average beast,
But an anteater covered in scales,
Looking quite prehistoric from head to, not least
Of its features, those long spiky nails.

It waddles in search of its main source

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