Short Mack Poems
Short Mack Poems. Below are examples of the most popular short poems about Mack by PoetrySoup poets. Search short poems about Mack by length and keyword.
Cornelius McGillicuddy Mack
You can’t make up a name like that
At baseball he took a loud whack
(Managing the A’s to 3,731 wins)
~ Suit-and-tie, teetotalling aristocrat
Here lies Mack
Flat on his back
Sleeping like a baby
His guts are worms
All full of germs
His brain is just a gravy
He was a tool
Drowned in a pool
For children 3 and under
Why so dumb?
No one knows
We can only wonder
He had a killer of a smile
But his mind was a blank
He could run a country mile
Though he was built like a tank
He got married eight times
But each bride soon brought him back
Rejected for his pebble-sized brain
My sweet smiling Uncle Mack
I heard clarity
In the quiver of his voice
I saw quintessence
In his only choice
His thin frame
Stood rigid against the storm
And from his eyes
He kept hearts warm
Shelter is a place
Tangible by touch
The only thing left
By the destruction of so much
And in his gesture of hope
His actions did not lack
It was just a message of love
From a man called Mack
My "mack"
worked.
I don't "mack"
I chat.
Establish communication.
Ask questions,
Leading questions,
enter the mind.
It is not hard, I find.
She
opened herself up
to me.
free from inhibition.
comfortable in that position.
I fed to her intuitions.
I notice things:
like the tattoo
on her lower back.
The way she sings to herself
to rhythm and blues.
Confident & cute!!
Jared Pickett
9/20/09
Asavvy1
Why do I keep feeling this way?
Like I'm in a dark place.
I have a great life,
but I feel like somethings is missing.
so my heart keeps twisting.
I feel like the dark place I'm in
won't let the light in.
Nobody else but me,
loneliness....how could this be?
Can anybody hear me...
please don't fear me.
I need somebody by my side.
It feels like a scary ride.
Should I hide from the light?
No! It doesn't seem right.
Pencil jumped out of my right hand and gave my left fingers a tiny tap
Three new ideas came to me in a quick snap; I needed pencil back.
Pencil refused to take direction, gave my cheek a tiny slap.
It was my fault for personalizing him and naming him Mack.
Mack wrote for an hour and ten minutes, never taking a break.
I noted it was all about himself, and most of it was fake.
Serves me right for giving him free rein.
Having an arrogant pencil is a bit of a pain.
I am a free spirit happy and free
I travel which way wind blows
Often heard singing off key
But dancing to the beat on my toes
Words are blurred I forget them
Often making up my own ditty
Yet in the rhythm I can swim
And match the groove so pretty
Miss Mary Mack wasn’t dressed in black
For I gave her colorful clothes
She line danced at the juke joint shack
Her best dress the color of rainbows
Give me the rhythm I’ll keep time
Dancing carefree with friends of mine