Short Hoopla Poems

Know
Hoopla just for you
Love
Lord...

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With candyfloss and sticks of rock
Funfair rides made to shock.

Roller coaster big fast rides
All made to hide your eyes

The carousel and kiddies swings
Hoopla darts and all those things

Sandy beach and cockles too
These are the things I loved to do...

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Here is offered a solution
  For those who would live free
In this time of dissolution
  To revitalize our country

Procure a giant circular saw
  Sporting the most teeth that ever be
And with a healthy dose of hoopla and hurrah
  Cut out the nation's capital, and throw it in the sea...

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Existence travels lineally
In whirlwinds of emotion
Colored logarithmically
And perceived equivocally

Expression mere epitaph

Knowledge serendipity strung
Till the bubble bursts

Frozen peaks of discovery
Cataloged in the hermitage of worth

- Mark Time -

Hermetically sealed
Peddled for a dime...

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Happy Birthday to the Queen!
A royal celebration
Will be the order of the day
Within the British nation.

From fireworks and gun salutes
To Parliamentary praise,
Her subjects will commemorate
With glorious displays.

As for the Queen, she’ll take a walk
Then spend the day at home
Paying just as much attention
To the hoopla as this poem....

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Platoons of imps march up and down my street,

Threatening mayhem if I don't give them a treat!

There are cowboys, Indians and phantoms galore,

Holding me hostage at my own front door!

They present their goodie bags for me to fill;

(Giving them an apple doesn't at all thrill).

Sure, they'd prefer a Reese's or Snickers treat,

But, by jove, I'm keeping them for me to eat!...

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I Fret the Holiday Season

I invited it in:
insipid, insidious 
holiday hoopla;
and now rue 
my indolent heart
As time escapes
I inveigh aloud 
a tirade of syllables 
that berate my 
immutable, 
irascible self

I pine for insouciance,
iniquitously doled 
to some
not to others,
and wear the  ignominious 
crown, self-bestowed 
upon my head:
“Intransigent Queen.” 

I’ve only myself to blame....

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I'm waiting for election day
When all the hoopla goes away,

All the lies and all the drama.
You're not fooling this old gramma.

You are but puppets mouthing dirt,
Spewing garbage, foe to hurt.

I want to hear what you will do,
Not old re-hash.  Give me some new

Info if you want my vote.
More lies will to me denote

The choice is an unholy sin
For least revolting guy to win.


won one of the no. 4 spots...

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"They don't need your thanks, your picnics or parades, Makes me sick to my stomach when I see such charades. A moment of silence with hand over heart or visit a grave site, That would be a good start. They died for our freedom the red, white and blue ..They gave up their lives with no payment due. So keep all of the hoopla in the sun or the rain. Say a prayer for all the Fallen, They did not die in vain." Ma. "God Bless Our Fallen."...

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The eagle soared above the fray,
Avoiding the hoopla below.
He had something else to do this day,
No time to stop and “play”.

Were we to soar with eagles thus
We too must miss the fuss.
Strength is not always shown
If every fight we claim as our own.

It’s hard to with eagles soar 
Many will this statement roar.
True it is to those who choose
To always with turkeys snooze.

The moral of the story goes
Way above the common woes.
Live above the “common way”
And eagles strength display....

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