they were in the wilderness hunting deer with a stick
I know this sounds like a corny joke, but it is no shtick
the hound led his master through brambles thick
while the deer laughed their antlers off, hard and quick
TYPE FORMS
BLITZ
tight fits
good spits
quick bursts
same first
inking
linking
FREE VERSE
immerse
in verse
roaming
storming
MINICHU
perplex
context
twelve laps
recaps
reward
unfolds
DEESWHEAT
sounds neat
on beat
cranks awe
tanka
cinquain
enchained
triplet
strip set
FOOTLE
versed brand
by Strand
two-line
may rhyme
trochee
swift spree
witty
ditty
one foot
output
HAIKU
small views
soothe you
nature
treasure
YALTO
word rows
in tows
notice
mini list
statement
intent
adjoint
make point
SUZETTE PRIME
sublime
no rhyme
inject
prime set
real surd
numbered
LIMERICK
pun shtick
risk it
in time
punchline
TOO MANY WORDS
there’s herds
for nerds
new forms
brainstorms
don’t fuss
adjust
all’s fair
who cares
expand
like Strand
Vagaries, slick word snakes off the tongue.
Hard lines are drawn when we desire fluid.
Smears won’t fix a disrespect this horrid.
It must be washed clean, now be strong.
There is great power in being a disruptor,
that charisma is perceived as so dynamic.
Transitional is what you feel with the shtick,
the source ultimately becomes a generator.
Calculated a metaphoric mutation spreads,
immediately eliminating anything invasive.
Don’t work against it, for it is aggressive.
The kill shot lurks under silken threads.
Oscillation sharpens with a slight crackle,
seismic waves split open and then devour.
Minute by minute or maybe it’s hour to hour,
nothing captures quite like shadow-tackle.
The quill writes, the poem stands real and tall,
some contests are moving targets, bright and slick.
Each contest entry just makes it wobble, fall~
please tell me this is all just harmless shtick.
The guide with his cheesy hat, and colorful umbrella
encourages us to: gather 'round.
His anecdotal spiel is by rote. His shtick is fact-slim
and slick, but it’s also my current gestalt as I am dragged
unwillingly along by his CliffsNotes speech.
What catches my wandering eye
is that one of those ruined effigies
is a fair facsimile of myself.
He (a god/king of some minor something),
looks mildly disgusted, as if
a bothersome fly had landed on his crumbling nose.
My world-weary face reflects perfectly
his sour mien.
At last, I am processed meekly
back onto the tour bus, where predictably,
my fellow passengers are already
peering forward into a new fancifully imagined past
from an equally fanciful present.
The guide with his cheesy hat, and colorful umbrella
encourages us to: gather 'round.
His anecdotal spiel is by rote. His shtick is fact-slim
and slick, but it’s also my current gestalt as I am dragged
unwillingly along by his CliffsNotes speech.
What catches my wandering eye is that this one ruined effigy
is a fair facsimile of myself. He (a god/king
of some minor something), looks mildly disgusted, as if
a bothersome fly had landed on his crumbling nose.
My world-weary face reflects perfectly that sour mien.
At last I am processed meekly back onto the tour bus,
where predictably, my fellow passengers are already
peering forward into a new fancifully imagined past
from an equally fanciful present.
I can't get no satisfaction
I can't get no satisfaction
'Cause I try and I try and I try and I try
I can't get no, I can't get no
I Can’t Get No Satisfaction/written by Mick Jagger/Keith Richards
there is an old man named Mick
who uses music as his shtick
when he tries to get some action
he seems to get no satisfaction
even though he thinks he’s pretty slick
Politics
in Hyde Park
was at the end of a shtick
FDR’s mouthpiece
a cigarette holder
suspended over
his spinning wheels
Pearl Harbor
a puff of smoke
It was a new deal
It was big
The peace pipe
signaling
W A R
USA
evened the score
News is abhorring
And so boring
Starting from the break of dawn
I think we need
To be indeed
Vaccinated for the yawn
They always try
The same tired lie
Their old shtick goes on and on
I’ll catch my death
With lack of breath
If they don’t vaccinate the yawn
They put on acts
With rusty facts
Their dog dug up from the lawn
And then they’ll drone
Over that bone
Hurry and vaccinate the yawn
Obey we should
For public good
And if not they’ll use their brawn
That same lousy
Makes me drowsy
Excuse me while I yawn
Here’s protection
From infection
Sorry but we’ve seen that con
So please instead
Cure sleepyhead
And vaccinate the yawn
We’ve had enough
Of their old stuff
We’re pooped out being their pawn
Since they’re creepy
We’ll stay sleepy
Until they vaccinate the yawn
What’s the shtick with coffee?
Why can my love, grow so cold, so fast?
Before microwaves, we’d keep to a tiny cup at a time
with no creamer. A little bit of the grind to warm us up-
a love so strong, kept on the fire. Cool beans*
2/14/203
*Sounds good
Ah, now for some juice~ a poetry fix!
What will my pen mix, dabble to affix?
Definitely not some Romantic, tear-jerking
Shtick! But maybe, a frozen delight, a
summer's day treat to ogle and lick –
What will this trick mind conjure and say?
Will the heart be enthusiastic or lazily
play – will my soul be squeamish, aghast,
shout nay!? Sip the venom of latte, such
frothy, beguiling display...my usual time to
write alarm set for the night~ yet, now it
is day, the 24/7 of poesy, night's chance slept
away. I got it! So off and running! Be
back with you shortly; it will be dazzling,
yes stunning! Brilliantly cunning!
The jog of my pen, full throttle, a blazing
sprint! Be back in a flash, after a fluff...and
tint...a deliciously enticing glint!
The guide with his cheesy hat, and colorful umbrella
encourages us to: gather 'round.
His anecdotal spiel is by rote,
his shtick fact-slim and slick,
but it’s also my current gestalt
as I am dragged unwillingly
along by his ‘cliff-notes’ speech.
One ruined effigy catches my eye
Its a fair facsimile of myself.
He (a god/king of some minor something),
looks mildly disgusted,
as if a bothersome fly had landed on his crumbling nose.
My bored skeptical face
reflects perfectly that sour mien of his.
At last I am processed meekly back onto the tour bus,
where predictably,
my fellow passengers are already peering forward
into a new fancifully imagined future and past
an unrecorded ersatz history
and ad libitum supposition,
which is hard to take.
for I and that crumbling king
are not anyone’s theory.
Packaged and sent to Robert Gorelick’s
Made him a Doggy Book Of Limericks
That had me roaring-unique
Some were cute and very chic
A twisty phrase he pulls-off, are his tricks
A postcard; his picture, a return address
Newly printed and hot off the press
It brought us closer, poet pals
Good deeds, I thanked God at St. Mel’s
He said it was nice, he was very impressed
His looks shout out Mister California
Ladies and gentlemen let me warnya
Dusty rugged devil so fine
He has aged like a fine French wine
Copy, print, and bind, a great idea
Robert takes his book wherever he goes
Bragging and boasting to all friends and foes
I’m submitting his chap book
I'll find an agent to hook
Dreams come true, fairy tales and rainbows
For the majority of the vast
I have been saving the best for last
His genius; sparkling and clever
He’s back, as witty as ever
Takes requests and voilà writes it fast
Maybe doggy limericks are his shtick
Short stories sensitive and romantic
But wait, a beautiful quatrain
Will please you every now and then
So let’s hear it for Robert Gorelick!
Let me preface my poem with saying that this is a narrative of what I saw from a video. I don’t agree with violence nor profanity. I do however understand a man wanting to stick up for his wife. There is enough crazy to go all through this situation.
Chris Rock told a tasteless joke about Jada Pinkett Smith.
Will was not amused.
It was no shtick, that slap
it was adamant
unabashed
didn’t care if anyone was looking
preferred it
“#$@& you” he yells,
after the heartbreak
if a husband stares into his wife’s eyes
and he drowns in the cold shark abyss
for her heart has been suddenly hurt
watch out…
surely the shuffle of feet
you’re quite lucky
it wasn’t a full grown punch
drop mike
3/28/2022
Joe be nimble
Joe be quick
Joe is a plagiarizer
Who stole his shtick
Joe be simple
Joe be sick
Joe can’t remember
Which reporter to pick
Sub Categories
Looking for the formal definition, structure, and history of this poetry form? Visit the Poetry Dictionary entry below. Then return to explore how PoetrySoup members bring the form to life through their own poems.