For every lowlife scammer,
Preying on those unaware,
There should be a waiting slammer
With just other lowlifes there.
Stealing savings from the lonely
Or the elderly or sick
Is a crime that can be only
Done by those so cruel and slick
That they don’t deserve a pardon
From a life within a cell,
Since all sympathy will harden
When their victims start to tell.
In this techno world we live in,
Scams are easy to perform,
Yet no scammer gets forgiven,
Or at least that is the norm.
When I read or hear a story
Of a person who’s been scammed,
Well, to me, it’s mandatory
That their slammer door be slammed.
I beleive pam? has run out of beach.' Lost the thread.. Is full of over reach.' She tried some gutter humor.' And now is almost pleading the fifth.' The sight is truly horrendus this gal is sucking on the very
Pith.' Its down to the bone..There is no more room, i can see a cell door in my sight it looms.) It'll slam;
With a bang! at a short
Length..Of time? or even more soon '
I wouldent cover; your dime '
Sunday Morning Blues**
Whether it's the vibrant nights of Rio de Janeiro or the electric energy of Las Vegas nightlife,
I’ve indulged in two or three glasses of Twisted Ice Lemonade,
Or perhaps it was an Alabama Slammer. One lesson learned: never trust your memory!
My days and nights have been nothing less than a freight train ride,
And that's the truth!
I can’t forget the Cuban Bulldog that bit me
Three years ago, in Kissimmee, that’s a fact.
It left me weak in the knees,
All thanks to those potent drinks.
Was it that audacious, wild Long Island Iced Tea
That nearly took me down.
After watching a news clip about Muammar Gaddafi,
Or maybe it was an episode of Friends?
Yet, I met my sweet Marlon Brando,
And it was hallelujah and Amen in Key Largo.
So many bartenders, so many smoke-filled rooms,
And once again, here I am, tackling
Another Sunday morning blues head-on.
The jury said the defendant was guilty
So the judge ruled 30 days in the klinky
If you visit the slammer
He'll be in his pyjammers
Playing a wee tune on his dinghy
"Tom, Tom the piper's son
Stole a pig and away he run.
The pig was eat,
And Tom was beat,
And Tom went crying down the street."
Now, this rhyme,
For a reader,
Offers minimal relief
As to who ate the pig
Or who chastised the thief.
And why Tom was punished
When his dad wasn't able
To pipe well enough
To put food on the table?
I can only hope that the author
Wound up in the slammer
For promoting delinquency,
Child abuse…
And really bad grammar!
I
When a spat leaves you blue-faced and chokin'
This advice may keep love's bond unbroken:
Don't go angry to bed,
Listen to what's being said
And not merely to what's being spoken.
II
A man marries then struggles the rest of his life
Trying to keep his home free from all worry and strife.
It won't enter his head
'til long after he's dead,
That he might should have wed a less extravagant wife.
III
A new wife was installed as the queen of her house,
And for a while quite content with no reason to grouse.
T'was a cruel trick of fate
When she found out, too late,
That her mate was a souse and a louse of a spouse.
IV
A husband, fed up with his wife's constant yammer,
Went ballistic and bashed out her brains with a hammer.
At his trial her removal
Won the jury's approval,
And his (suspended) sentence, six months in the slammer.
I was at a wild party,
up above bourbon street.
When someone cried out,
so, what's a Yeet?
An imbibed guy replied,
as he rose from his seat.
"Au contraire Mes aims,
e'st fait accompli."
Well, a yeet's a teen yet,
that's still very messy.
Cause he styles his fine hair,
With ranch salad dressing.
Yeah, I wanna be fair,
but he had too many.
And it's always a blast,
when you party with French Yeti's!
I really don't speak French,
Only, English and bad grammar.
Hope I won't end up,
In the Poetry slammer.
An Unwashed Handkerchief
Stanky
Hanky
Prison Noise
Slammer
clamor
Construction Noise
Hammer
Clamor
Bad English
Gringo
Lingo
Seen in the Buff
Granny
Fanny
April 20, 2022
For A Brian Strand Premiere Choice Poetry Contest
That Diaspora represent a piece of my identity,
Strewed my views on the squires of taciturnity,
Inconspicuous lines and depictions,
And then there's the pencil wizard,
Follow my body's rhythms, that I used to bury,
A meandering deer in the tangle of conscience,
I interred it in the depths of my gentle soul,
He was doused in letter ink,
I interfered with him in some proper link,
The beater is nipped by a beehive,
Following the poke scores another shove,
Silence and no ardour, to mitigate brain's fury,
An ink would be dainty, to soothe mind's rage,
The gap was scared, so he squeezed a sunrise,
Swollen and grown, with that slammer,
Reluctantly urge her to endow what she's realized,
I swore an oath of ultimate devotion.
Her moral sins were washed by the Lord.
You didn't hook sight of her fastening orbs.
Twilight's deeper level starts eagerly with a rally.
Written: February 20, 2022
My old gran had an ice cream van
And a bright green cape and a madcap plan
She’s out to save her fellow man
And with her walking frame, she can
Each night she prowls the felon’s range
Disturbing owls and foxes
She takes the van so she can change
For there are no phone boxes
She parks up at the end of night
And hobbles home by day’s first light
Today she caught a mugger’s sight
Who mocked my Gran’s heroic fight
‘Fighting crime is not a game
You’re just some soppy, daft old, dame
You’re leaning on that walking frame
To get some place or other.
‘Without your cape you’ve no disguise
Without your mask over your eyes
It might be wise to realise
You’re just some kid’s grandmother.’
Grandma raised her walking frame
Toward from where the voice had came
She asked the thug, ‘Have you no shame?’
And with her walking frame, took aim
One leg sprayed out chocolate sauce
Another leg sprayed sprinkles
Then Grandma pressed a button
And her van played tuneful tinkles
She gave the thug a wily grin
‘You’ll get the slammer some day
But today I’ve turned you in…
to an ice cream sundae.’
Mother asked her big brother to pass the sugar;
big brother ruined it by splashing on liquor;
father rued spilt liquor by throwing his jigger
that hit sister who lit an elbow hard slammer
straight into the hand of their rare guest and butcher;
butcher stood to secure a full-face slap on her;
slap missed, striking their napping, fat cat to a blurred
flying fur on shriek tour that dog crashed with claws bore;
clawed dog wailed and bailed, dragging tail out wee dog
door where he ran to distance pain until a looper
stopped his scooter – close by was one giant cougar;
too pooped to care, tired dog flopped right then and
right there; dog closed eyes, cougar cleared throat, then
croaked, ‘Hey, Lassie, are you insanely blind to cougar
claw lugers?’; dog moaned, ‘A quick cougar corker beats
home murder.’
A young lady from Lillehammer
Was wont to consort with a scammer
No one could stop’em
Until the cops caught’em
And now they reside in the slammer
Single mistakes can be costly,
Surely a statement made falsely
Will get you time in the slammer
And create lots of loud clamor,
So never enter a false plea.
written July 3, 2021
Poetic Penmanship
Rhyming
Stories
Format
Emotions
Narrative
Verse
A picture of the ocean
Lonely
Bewildered
An enchanted sea
Fantasy
Fiction
Truthful as can be
Contests
Copyrights
Syllables and
Grammar
told by a King
or person in the slammer
An art form
all of its own
individually created
By You
A Poem
Written for All Yours (Mar. 31) Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Brian Strand
Clyde Clark
In park
Was boozy
Real doozy
Did pee
On tree
Broke law
Cop saw
Tied hands
With bands
To jail
Sans bail
Called spouse
"You souse"
Said she
To he
"Stay there
Don't care"
(Later before the judge)
"Where ere you be let your water flow free", was Clyde's creative defense.
Ha! Ha! grinned the judge! "Thirty days in the slammer for this offense!"
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.