Short Out To Lunch Poems
Short Out To Lunch Poems. Below are examples of the most popular short poems about Out To Lunch by PoetrySoup poets. Search short poems about Out To Lunch by length and keyword.
You don't know any better than I
Nor I any better than you
Only god knows better than either of us
And he has gone out to lunch
A famous boxer received a punch
That made his brain box crunch
He fell in the ring
When he heard the bell ding
Then the victor went out to lunch
“The only thing to fear is fear itself”
FDR's speech rings true for the world's health
Nothing's changed
Cept for some names
Freedom's still out to lunch and the air still smells
Smith was out to lunch
or maybe it might be brunch
had to practice punch
we should realize
what Smith did was compromise
had not been too wise
Putin with a crew
bad things he will do to you
he had a loose crew
This happens when you have no extra time-
There you stand in the queue
Patiently, you wait
There’re two ahead of you--
You’re so close to the gate
You watch as time runs out
Tick tock…., you’re in a crunch
Up goes the sign, “Out to Lunch”
Now, your face wears this pout
Oh! What a snafu!
~*~
I wonder why...
I must sit still and wait
for the Doctor to come in
when I got here so late.
If I'd been on time,
would I have see him at once,
Or would he have just gone out to lunch?
Early or late- on time or slow,
It really doesn't matter what time I go
to the doctor's office I wait...
Death failed to show up for work one day,
the clock remained unpunched
Hospital’s waiting, graveyards on call,
all coroner’s out to lunch
Death took a holiday without checking in,
the pecking order stunned
Like a deer on the highway, all headlights turned off
—awaiting what’s to come
(Dreamsleep: November, 2020)
I don't wanna be
a wannabe no more
waiting for opportunity
to come a'knocking
on my open door
and the day she does
tho' the lights are on
there's no one home
as I'll probably be
out to lunch
knowing me
so I wanna see
'Been there, done that!'
on my resumé because
I'm oh-so tired
of being a never-was
Cupid went on a tear
that day he hit the punch.
His shots went here and there.
He sure was out to lunch.
That day he hit the punch
and ventured to the zoo
to where his arrows flew.
His shots went here and there
and hit a hare and sloth
thus twitterpating both.
He sure was out to lunch,
and I would like to know
which cubs are fast or slow.
Joe’s out to Lunch
He’ll be back right away
(Try again, sucker
next Friday)
Joe just stepped out
or he’s with a client
Joe lies a lot
But he’s compliant
Joe’s not in today
So talk to Hank
Hank’s not in either
to be real frank
Joe’s on another line
He can’t take your call
All his excuses
nought but stalls
My mommy has elmos laugh.
She is a part of the riverside staff.
My mother is really short.
Baketball is her favorite sport.
Peanut is my mothers nickname.
In basketball she brought her a-game.
She loves me a whole bunch.
She always takes me out to lunch.
My love for her will never die.
This is truly NOT a lie.
This poem is finally over.
Now she knows i love her.
By: Cherica Eckiwaudah
Do I support the President
By Franklin Price
10/07/2019
Do I support the President?
Is a question that I hear
Especially with impeachment
That seems is drawing near
To me it doesn't matter
Whether I'm for Trump or not
Both sides won't work together
They must always stir the pot
I'm getting very, very tired
Of the whole self centered bunch
When it comes to We the People
Washington is out to lunch
Be sure to bring your surf board,
Which you always can afford;
To God be conscientiousness;
When you do be very anxious.
When drowning in river realized,
That I really was being baptized;
While I had been having a hunch,
All politicians were out to lunch.
Would find out that flu had been;
Saved for only those who did sin,
According to my Bible I had read,
Will receive ticket when you sped.
Jim Horn
Form:
The Muse had been gone for years
I sat alone
she was replaces by Depression
the Big D
I couldn't write anything of value
or worth
Academia replaced creativity
muck to honey
now the muse is back
I can smell colors
feel thoughts
my natural LSD
Depression is out to lunch
the Muse has opened the gates
the water of imagination
soaks the stone cold
once dried dead dam
Christ came back after 3 days
I've been resurrected 3 years later.
The man was a legend.
So farewell, Cassius Clay, Ali
You knocked out a bit of poetry
That butterfly one sure packed a sting
And well done on the boxing thing
Mohammed, man, you’re counted out
You gave the boxing thing a shout
Wrote rhyme to make a grown man cry
And dodged the draft like a butterfly
Ali, you’ve packed your final punch
Man, you took boxing out to lunch
Men say that you are God today
Who made Mohammed out of Clay
© Gail Foster
I usually see them coming
this one caught me by surprise.
It hit me in the back of my melon
right between the eyes.
A cheap shot was extended
bludgeoned from behind.
Directly above an area
where the sun has never shined.
I need to be more careful
the tiny dancer keeps watch.
I guess it could have been worse
I could have caught one in the crotch.
Tomorrow is a brand new day
off the clock and out to lunch.
I have new friends that watch my back
for the dreaded sucker punch.