Short Ditties Poems
Short Ditties Poems. Below are examples of the most popular short poems about Ditties by PoetrySoup poets. Search short poems about Ditties by length and keyword.
Casey Kasemus played the hits,
Renaissance songs so pretty.
It was as good as was it gets,
a countdown of dulcet ditties.
Charles John Huffam Dickens
wrote many novels where the plot thickened
but one of his best ditties
was A Tale of two Cities
Poetrysoup's Jan is quite a lass
Whose poetry is always first class
She writes ditties with ease
About mountains and fleas
Nothing phases her pens brilliance
Robert Gorelick's a limerick artist
And he's certainly one of the smartest
Specializes in cities
Writes hilarious ditties
The best of which I think are the tartest
“Fats” passed away, an icon from the fifties
Remembered fondly, for his rock'n roll ditties
Gave us a thrill
On Blueberry Hill
Many followed but “Fats” was Mr. Nifty
On meow buses
no cat fusses.
Sweet little kitties
meow rodent ditties;
deck out bunting
time for hunting.
With pounding paws
furries prime claws.
Amid glad rasping
there is no fasting.
Yo... how's your freakin' weekend so far
Are you cruisin' along in life's happy sidecar
With a soda in hand
Grinning to beat the band
Singing joyful ditties filling your resevoir
At times I disgust myself but please show no pity
I'm totally in charge of my clever little ditties
It's only for a laugh
At times I may gaff
It's then I hate myself and I feel all shitty
In the land of Jack, happiness reigns
No bad stuff ever belongs in our brains
Only cute little ditties
Bout puppies and kitties
And an occasional one about whips and chains
© Jack Ellison 2015
Hate it when people say I'm “over the hill”
Haven't reached the hill yet, age is just a matter of will
Like mind over matter
Don't be a mad hatter
Just skip, jump and sing ditties bout love and roadkill
Hate it when people say I'm 'over the hill'
Haven't reached the hill yet, age is just a matter of will
Like mind over matter
Don't be a mad hatter
Just skip, jump and sing ditties about love and roadkill
Really hate it when people say I'm “over the hill”
Haven't reached the hill, age is just a matter of will
Like mind over matter
Don't be a mad hatter
Just skip, jump and sing ditties bout love and roadkill
Trippsied through the streets singing cute ditties out loud
Strange looks greeted me as I fought my way through the crowd
Till one old fellow
Joined in acapella
Followed by a chorus of happy strollers, made me proud
i like isms does that make me prism
mirror ages as vape pours
humorous ditties
son raise dues
rise son
reflect on your actions
burden songs
Vacuum me's
Pace with twisted guts
clowns hit the ground with a thud
in the shade oh
tied in knots or nots
frothing from the lips corners
If I can’t me hug,
Nor can on my shoulder cry,
Fine, I’m such a mug,
But did I gripe why?
So what if I’m such a smug.
_________________________
Senryu |17.06.2021|
Poet’s Note: We often read a Haiku or a Senryu and go deep in self-reflexion. But some small ditties can also be a lot of fun.
the lady remarked that she felt her soul leave her body
when the fairground ride spun
i replied it’s just like flying but flying is better
there’s nothing else like it
she said she felt reborn upon leaving the ride
Gatoros and Crocos: Lower Case Murky Poems and Ditties
Nick Armbrister
Once, shell-less snails filled me with terror.
That childish outlook was my error.
Now, I laugh it off with a shrug.
It's just another slug.
***
If rock-paper-scissors was a game,
played with creatures whose only aim
was to eat,
when confronted by a duck, new to town,
any slug with pluck, would soon go down
in defeat.
Woke in night writing poetry,
and I do this a lot;
Grabbed a pen and piece of paper
so that I could then jot;
Down some lines, not that great,
but mean a lot to me;
Hope that I can capture some
internal magic key;
Don’t care if readers love them,
my ditties are for fun;
Cause in the end I really write
for readership of one.
Feel better soon dear Bluebird
Someone loves you much
The troubadour that's in me
Is writing such and such
In little ditties, longer lines
Some that take a page
But all express my heart in words
And once you're on the stage
I stand behind and in the back
Your beauty in full view
I like to think the painting
By Klimt is me and you
Feel better soon dear Bluebird
Someone loves you much
The troubadour that's in me
Is writing such and such
In little ditties, longer lines
Some that take a page
But all express my heart in words
And once you're on the stage
I stand behind and in the back
Your beauty in full view
I like to think that painting
By Klimt is me and you
Some Old, Short Ditties
(doggerel)
I.
Our sojourn on Earth
is of diminutive worth.
Our small time is spent
(and no more are we lent!)
long before we're ready.
II.
Drunkening wine of heady
illusion obliterates thought
and causes confusion.
III.
Fleeting is life!
Fruitless existence!
'Ere any purpose
is completed
life is done --
and we're defeated!
'
Form:
Shawn was full of blarney most of his youthful days
with his full face, his emerald eyes and his ginger hair
He sang Irish ditties in knee slapping ways
When he had too much beer at the Dublin fair
He is so rotund, so Rubenesque, so big, some said.
Santa Claus is too, said his wife, her head totally red.
She liked everything about her chubby happy man.
Loved him completely, as only a second wife can.
he had someone special
he loved her so
she meant the world to him
he questioned why
they never met before
it would've been possible
for they lived on the same planet
they just never knew
that the other existed
but they know now
and will not ever part
not even when they fight
like crazy gunfighters
in some mad way
Gatoros and Crocos: Lower Case Murky Poems and Ditties
Nick Armbrister
Irish Witch rode her Celtic self into the fray
Singing Irish ditties that made other’s hair turn gray
Confidence on high, she showed them all up for sure
Dublin’s most notorious witch was full of nature pure.
How do you know it is she? Asked a leprechaun.
Paddy thumped his head and asked “what planet are you on?
Her face is the map of Ireland; look at her freckles and ginger hair.
Don’t ever ask again if you want to live your old age fair.”
I had never met a happier ice cream banana split.
She sang to me songs that would make you twirl a bit.
Love songs and ditties that spilled over her glass bowl.
She was an ice cream with feelings, a banana split with a soul.
I hate to devour you, I told her as I tried to masticate.
That is fine! She told me, my strawberry syrup is great!
She sang all the way down my esophagus and truly tickled me.
I love being a part of you, she sang out. I kind of miss her glee.