Playpen Poems | Examples

my aliens actions

Mary’s behavior is bizarre to most
not to me, her favorite earthly host
bread on your nose is what aliens do
as is painting dark elm tree limbs light blue

her planet is seen at two a.m.
She likes to watch it from my son’s playpen
her actions might seem odd to little old you
but she does what all good aliens want to do

Sonnet 10: The Minor Jesters

Amongst the crowd, there were little jesters recently elected to their posts!
Recording and uploading posts to their social audience was a key to their political demise!
How ignorant and stupid must people be to place their job into the box of the ghost!
Careers often change with new skills and knowledge; they are not meant to be a career demise!

The young ducklings believed their mother duck would be there for them and hold their hand!
Little ducks in the tub are made of rubber, so you have no defense against an ink pen!
The only ones to hold those dirty hands are the ones involved with a criminal band!
Maybe now you will rethink your actions before the criminal courts put you into a playpen!

Running around with your buffalo hat made you an easy target!
Well, the law has placed your head on the wall as a message for everyone!
Your face is the voice of the conspiracy target!
You believed that the world was against the loser; you are the loser for everyone!

Being a fool is not a paying job; even comedians have style
Your actions are made of pure, unadulterated bile.

Three In A Tub Nursery Rhyme

We ride the sea of blue,
as the wind blew.
Mounds of white grew,
it is soap not glue.


Have you meet the three men?
Bill is a writer with a pen,
John is with businessmen,
Tom likes to watch TV in his playpen.


Three men in a tub,
plus one child in for a scrub.
They belong to a club,
the bath time dub-dub.

The Mind of a Poet

My thoughts conjure up witty words
that merge and converge in my mind;
like a murmuration of birds.

Feelings get released and aligned;
forming a poem line by line,
in which tawdry rhymes get refined.

My muse claims the poem is mine;
but that is not entirely true,
She supplies the polish and shine.

I was mute till She found my voice;
and imbued my poetic pen
with rhythm and rhyme; I had no choice.

I'm like a child in a playpen
whose imagination's free
to wonder every now and then.

My talent is God's gift to me;
expounding on the truths I see.

Programming

Tidy boxes, appealing to the eye in a calendar,
office space, sterile wall, driven in circles mad by desire
for stimulation, a place beyond walls
does such a place exist? and if so what fear lies there...
unwinding years of pre-k programming
system lined with debonair intrigues
if you do this you can have that and then some...so what?
leisure becomes the devils playpen
you are a baby outside these walls
so it seems, they lead and you follow
kick back? relax? hustle culture tells you NO.
stern blocky letters to the face
anonymously tracing lines down the sidewalk...
well what when the sidewalk ends?
maybe you will realize what is really pretend.

Off To School

OFF TO SCHOOL

So you're off to boarding school,
It'll be the making of you, my lad,
Muses the bespectacled gentleman,
Sat behind his morning paper, 
The commuter train steaming 
Its trundling way
Past opened curtains 
Of genteel suburbia.

Familiarly hypnotic rhythm 
From the clickety-clacking track
Continues, scarcely heeded 
By the carriage's motley clientele, 
Disturbed from comatose reveries, 
Enduring the drilled strains 
Of unwelcome conversation.

Hostile eyes look up in 
Bristling annoyance
At a shy, enclosed boy, 
Who keeps locked-in silence 
On his first uncertain foray
Into the strange world beyond 
The comfortable boundaries
Of his homely playpen.

Our Global Playpen

Woke up grinning like a silly old fool
Is there something I can take for that
Maybe a new pill that's just hit the market
A cure-all to save humanity and our cat

Household pets are worth saving too
In fact they are first to be given a pass
An average life span will eventually be 150
What will I do sitting on my ass

Well let's see I could write a classic
Like a famous Overture in C Major or such
Or invent a new mode of transportation
New York to LA in a nano-touch

How about a new food to tickle our fancy
Yummy yummy tween me and you
A new drink to make us more intelligent
Finally no more known as a goof

Still woke grinning like a silly old fool
So what could be the reason then
Must be something like a big bunch of gas
Or more likely it's earth's playpen

Matthew 18:3

Tonight, I became my youngest son,
my oldest son now gone
My youth reframed, new joy proclaimed,
a lost returning song

Tonight, I became that little boy, 
whose playpen sets me free
All toys reclaimed, no further blame
—to enter joyfully

(The New Room: January, 2022)

Digits

Five little fingers keep me “occupied” as I crawl on Persian rugs,
four little fingers toy with model trains my eldest brother scorned,
three little fingers learn to tip and tap on  gadgets oddly-named.
Two little fingers wrap around felt pens that scribble “telltale signs.”
One little finger now a playpen pal in my
“let’s pretend” home!

A Man's Playpen

She sits silently in contemplation,
immersed in quietude and solitude.
And yet, she's here to voice her frustration
with the church, portraying women as lewd.

God made woman subservient to man,
or so says church dogma espoused by men.
But she cannot believe it was God's plan
that she be a toy in a man's playpen.

She won't worship a misogynous God,
although her eternal soul exults Him.
And yet, she can't dismiss Him; that's what's odd,
she believes that her life's but a prelim.

The bible condemns Eve for Adam's sin,
the demeaning of women lies therein.


(Sonnet)


12/22/2020

Teacher Please Don'T Ridicule Me

Teacher please don't ridicule me
Your words are poisionus and cruel
All I want to do is come to school
Learn how to be confident 
And one day be educated enough to rule
Teacher dont underestimate me
I will not always be a clown or a fool 
Not everyone was born to be a brain box at school
Teacher please be kind, give me some time
With a little consideration and motivation 
I will learn to elevate and climb
Teacher I understand 
It's hard for you to watch over
Thirty young women and men
Especially when we think life is like a playpen
Teacher time will pass
I will not always be in your class
But cruel words tend to have an impact and last

Elusive Y0uth and Time

Time slipped like a shadow in the dying moonlight  
Locked in yesterday’s dreams 
I wished to sense the warmth inside her cradling embrace 
Once again

Thoughts of you penetrated my anxiety
But like a squirming fish in my hand
You slithered away
Turning time into bits of elusive sand  

Sand that continues to pour out of my hourglass  
Becoming part of yesterday's eternal fun sandbox
That lovers dwell and play in as their youth wanes 
And later, vainly try to hold on to their vanishing years

But Time? What is Time?
If not God’s joke to make us hurry to get on with it
Mine is no joke but to keep the sand from pouring out 
And hasten my urgency to dwell in your playpen

When Life Was Really Child's Play

Oh, the stress-free, carefree world of children
O' take me back to the lil kids' playpen

When we tried on mom's cosmetics and lipsticks
and built playhouses with plastic blocks and bricks
And had fun with cooking set picnics

Anything could be a toy
and our racket could annoy

We turned everything into play things
We played pretend queens and kings

We then played 'mom and dad'
Oh the squealing fun we had!

Teasing, chasing hens and kittens
climbing the grumpy neighbour's fence.

There was paper airplanes
and frisking in the rains

Paper boats too were made
and hide'n'seek was played

And when that wasn't enough
we played blind man's bluff.

We nimbly climbed the trees
hair flailing in the breeze

But our child's play naturally mimicked the grownups
Lil plastic ones instead of real porcelain cups.

Life was all play and games
in our growing mental frames.

Sand castles and kites
childish fights and frights!

And kind parents just let them frisk and play
for all work and no play makes one a dull boy

There To Heaven In 18 Years

Hey ! Who turned the friggin' lights out.

swimming in the warm bliss of a moment

to a safety of purpose a beating heart
explained by many , understood by none
through a wall of water , wailing and life
to plastic, rubber , hands , sound and lights

Now  , What is this ? It's my flippin'  life!

sitting on the floor with a playpen 
overhead , weighted with books
playing cowboys and indians in the groves 
With B-B guns and split dried peas 
 
Look , there's the byes! Just like they-

she had beautiful blue eyes , I met her when
she still hated boys and we grew together
in lives and school when I left for college
she was leaving for basic training 

W..hooo! Where did that come from?


from college party with one too many beers
I was the only one going home, didn't get there
I flew from the car cause I did not like belts
 in the ditch , tasted blood , drifted away

Do I get to stay here?..............(whisper)...... Do I Really!

Bright Jack, the Maniac

Our sweet, all white cat Snowball had ten
kittens!  Goodbye to Zen.
Each one a different color,
some muted gray, or ginger, and some multi-color;
and one was all black,
and a real little jumping jack.
When the time came for adoption they were in a playpen,
and people came time and again.
First, adopted were the bright cats with fur technicolor,
and the cats in muted watercolor.
But, on each visit the black cat hung back,
then, when we were alone he was a maniac.
And then, there was only him and a ginger in the pen,
but ginger said goodbye one day, and then
there were no more bright cats multi-color
and no more cats technicolor or watercolor.
Just one little bright-eyed maniac black,
that I kept and named Jack . . . 
I keep my Jack close, when
out, 'cause people can be mean every now and then.

________________________
January 7, 2018


Poetry/Rhyme/Bright Jack, The Maniac
Copyright Protected, ID 18-9807-76-01
All Rights Reserved.  Written Under Pseudonym.



For the contest,There is a Brighter Side
sponsor, Eve Roper

First Place


Inspired by image #2
Rhyme Pattern - aabbccaabbccaabbccaa- 20 lines
Rhyming verified on Rhymezone.

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