Short Tacky Poems
Short Tacky Poems. Below are examples of the most popular short poems about Tacky by PoetrySoup poets. Search short poems about Tacky by length and keyword.
cheap
& tacky
flames&
smoke
whatever
is
at hand
fragments
in code
scratched
away
Who cares who calls
How to handle balls?
Kidding bidding close near
Sweet woman lovely dear
Slow fast flickering flame
Adult star tacky sesame...
Life seems to be a little tacky
It makes me feel I'm going Whacky,
I mentioned this to my husband, John
Who said, "you are not going. You've gone!"
There once was a bridegroom so wacky
His tuxedo was made of green khaki
His bride screamed, "Ee gad!"
Then went raving mad---
Her wedding ring was pure ticky-tacky
There was an old stripper called Jacky,
who's act was deemed rather tacky.
But she got her comeuppance
when, out of her tuppence,
fell six pipes, fifty fags and some baccy.
November is the bitter promise
we couldn't keep
November are the words
as they fall like slaughtered sheep
silence is silver-blue
& gold is too tacky
to ever be this beautiful
Form:
I knew a guy whose name was Jake
Who lived in the woods near a lake
He was sorta wacky
And a tad bit tacky
But for some reason he liked to bake
Alexis Y.
9-8-17
My brother calls me "Hammer Head"
Cause I eat Nails !
My sister calls me "Tacky"
Cause I eat Nails !
My friends call me "Spike"
Just because I eat Nails !
Everyone says I am a
"glutton for punishment"
I just can't seem to stop,
Biting on my Nails !
on my brim
dons tangible markings.
Crafted genes engage
to warn iconic
of principled
death.
She measures
her tacky line, loping
anchors across
waxen badges
encrusted with
doubt.
I don’t fear
the web she spins
above my cerebellum
since due warning
of predatory intent
gleans.
I think it is the most insensitive thing I have seen here for a contest..or anywhere in my
life..
poems making fun of the pain they have felt of being cheated on..
I think you people are insensitive and cruel..
and think nothing of what those people endured..
I think it is tacky and tasteless..
heartless
Witch in White Sharkskin
They criticize sharkskin as exotic or tacky,
When, in fact, it’s common and fine as warp-knitted wool.
But it gets me reminiscing about what it is I’m missing.
What might possibly fill this dark abyss of mine?
It’s plain that I could sorely use some kind white witching,
That magic you wickedly practice, even just for auld lang syne.
I heard there is a party
I heard it's wild and crazy
Adventurous and funky
Not at all boring or tacky
This makes me happy
As I can dress skimpy and naughty
Colorful and attractive
Being social and all active
I heard there is a gathering
An occasion to be flirty and daring
Courageous and playful
Yet mindful and caring
Notting Hill is preparing
Carnival is nearing
Into the deep- green hearted forest
far removed from man's raucous tangle
the many tacky hues of self-centeredness.
There's only herbivores and carnivores
doing their thing in primal time harmony.
Nesters weave the incoherence together
Miraculously everything is spaced out evenly
I'm given a wide berth and tolerated to a degree.
Even the gray silence keeps its distance from me.
what goes around...
human bombs wait with fundamentalist patience
to wipe us from the earth as infidels
for polluting paradise
shocked disbelief rises like smoke from 911
hovers over ticky tacky boxes
morning coffee,
last night's discarded
plastic wrapped
lost generation
all for the flush
spindizzy in a clock-wise vortex
stare out through a green dollar haze
and miss the point again
Slouching, sleepy in the little arm chair, eating cake,
Our country on the screen, there isn’t much at stake.
Drowning out the tacky tunes with our laughter,
It’s harmony,you see, that everyone is after.
Harmony, like this, in your living room together,
Flags and funny costumes, it’s times like this, nothing’s better.
Maybe peace is best achieved through art,
Oh Europe, please
keep open
your musical heart.
Tacky little girl,
With hair all a curl.
Smart enough to manipulate one,
But two is even better,
And a lot more fun!
Has tantrums down like a lark,
Occasionally ads a resounding fart!
If not enough noise,
She can scream her displeasure,
Only to get her way at her leisure.
It's so sad to know,
One day she will grow,
And cease to be the angel that I see.
.
The nymph's tressez
Tacky
left overs from
this morn'nin'z
tussle 'bout the oak's
fall'n
crisp
her and my
wrestle for top
Suspect
i'm always look'n
up
Chocolate Charlie, a fruit and nutter
Made from milk, cocoa and butter
Chocolate Charlie, so very sweet
From the top of his head
Right down to his feet
He has little chocolate fingers
And little chocolate toes
With chocolate eyes and ears
And a chocolate button nose
Chocolate Charlie, a little bit wacky
Left out in the sun can get a little bit tacky
Chocolate Charlie so yummy and scrummy
Sadly no longer with us
Because he is inside my tummy.
On my way to work the exotic night birds
would cluster on the corner of tenth and Sheridan
frantic and brimming with bling and street charm
a vibrant ball of painted desperation
flagging down throbbing tricks.
The tallest one moved with a champagne confidence
I nick named her Chandelier for her tacky elegance
she'd be the one, if I could ever slay my conscious.
For two years I'd pass by tenth and Sheridan
looking for a Chandelier in a third shift sky.
One man’s opulence another
Might consider tacky,
Especially when catered to
By every spineless lackey.
Yet those who rake in riches
As their empire’s being built
Should, if empathy at all exists,
Feel just a little guilt.
So many struggle just to live
While barely getting by;
Still, we hear of millions being spent
By those who rule on high.
A little gilt can be too much
And for a would-be king,
A little guilt, at least, should come
From those who kiss his ring.
I hear mento music making night sweet
See women shuffling hips and light feet
Feel the rhumba box humming in my heart
Gombay grumbling breaks the bass apart
My soul surrenders to her salacious flute
And shakes like a maracca to contribute
To festive dance with toombah repeating
The bottle torch lits up the opague night
And fireflies come the years remembering
And they guided Tacky to that ancient fight
For patrimony and human rights to meet
Where Jamaica stands soveriegn above defeat.
“When you are not fed love on a silver spoon, you learn to lick it off knives.”
– Lauren Eden
born to the purple
no one to guide or support
love sought cold comfort
in all that surrounds
pushed aside by family
a need for parental touch
assuaged by those captive outsiders paid to placate
thin pitiful whines
yes, born well to the purple
all desired shackled within tacky satin
ribbons and gilded exchequers with coveted
foul purse strings
serrated hearts, cutting tongues