Short Full Of Beans Poems
Short Full Of Beans Poems. Below are examples of the most popular short poems about Full Of Beans by PoetrySoup poets. Search short poems about Full Of Beans by length and keyword.
When I was a young'un full of beans
Used to skip rope and climb up trees
But since I got old
Noticed some mold
Appearing on my naughty parts as well as some fleas
When I was a young'un and full of beans
Used to skip rope and climb up trees
But since I got old
Noticed some mold
Appearing on my naughty parts as well as some fleas
Well clickety clack, here comes Jack
Full of beans, whatcha think about that
You can count on him
To make you grin
A bunch of silly humour he surely don't lack
© Jack Ellison 2016
A youthful face, but no brains:
Time the deceiver – I think back,
to all I thought I knew that it has
taken me a lifetime to unlearn: Oh
the labyrinths the spirit travels!~till
at last realizing the poverty it has
impressed on its own soul – Youth,
full of beans, gassing the world
indiscriminately!
Old Mick has the lips of a bragger
And wiggles his hips with a swagger.
He jumps, full of beans
In black skinny jeans
With hip-shaking destined to stagger!
Old ladies enjoy the distraction
Of seeing their idol in action.
He keeps them at bay
For, wrinkly and grey,
They can't give him no satisfaction!
30.08.19
'Swagger poetry contest' sponsored by Line Gauthier
Hot coffee
black coffee
really has the means
when I sup but half a cup
to make me feel
quite full of beans
only one requirement tho'
no decaf if you please
and altho' born in Kenya
where the coffee grows
why it's called
'a cup of Joe'
I'm sure I do not know
but
hot coffee
black coffee
is the best ammo
when I do a mug or two
to give me the right
get up and go
I sit, think; catch a quick wink as the ship sinks.
My instinct is to lip sync till the slip’s pink.
Can’t win fights when my chin swipes reach only shin height.
And when kin likes taking Schwinn bikes to my wind pipe.
It’s useless. I’m an aloof spruce, I’m fruitless.
The looseness of nooses is becoming a nuisance.
Screw this. Hope has gone the way of the dodos.
I pack my bindle full of beans and hop a train with the hobos.
The glossy brochure made a promise,
To those maybe living with strife,
That by moving to their Senior Eden,
You’d find “wellness” the way of your life.
Though perhaps their apartments are lovely
And the clubhouse has classes and such,
To offer a life filled with “wellness,”
Is really, to me, just too much.
For no matter how shiny the pamphlet,
It all adds to a hill full of beans
When you bat around language like “wellness,”
Since I have no idea what it means.
What happens when the only light you see
Is the mainstream media’s gaslight?
It’s Plato’s Cave all over again
Except the fire throwing shadows now
Is an official gaslight torch.
Ironic tho’ given the current gaslighter’s revulsion
Of all things fossil fuel.
But gaslight it is.
Although the source of the actual gas
Is still under investigation.
My hunch, my bet, my two cents
Is that the gas in question
Is their own
Since they are all,
To put it nicely,
Full of beans.
(8/3/24)