Freedom Lovers
Know you not…that freedom is not free.
In each genaration, work at this assiduously!
Poets cringe at the any poem politicked?
They prefer rainbows as a subject, it makes patriotic, poets, sick!
You don’t have to go on a journey very far away,
To know there’s a country where you cannot have your say
I ponder if you would really give a hoot?
If somebody put a muzzle on your snoot?
Unless you develop a heart of steal.
Liberty might be gone, that your heart, made of mush, cannot feel.
So don’t allow brainless hordes, to scare you to death
Fight for every freedom, till you’re very last poetic breath!
As I stood in the line looking neutral
Hoping my choice would be fruitful
I was knocked on my ass
By the bellowing gas
Of a wobbling sign with a snoot full
Yeti in snow, the greatest camouflage
His winter substitute for ghillie suit
Some think him an abominable brute
He means no ill will to their entourage
These beings here that came to sabotage
So fades into the white, all but his snoot
Yeti in snow
He prepares inside ice cold embassage
In case they infiltrate his cave en route
For his plunder of crystal iceberg loot
Hid by a stormed up blizzard clad mirage
Yeti in snow
October 12, 2022
Rousing Rondine Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Jeff Kyser
The dog is leaping and frolicking like crazy today
But the cat is haughty, and keeps herself far away.
The dog is doing a Scottish Reel and a petootsi watusi.
The cat is licking her paws acting stuck up and snoot-sy.
The dog is adorable now, doing a line dance with cowboys
The cat is batting away her catnip filled mouse toys.
The dog is singing, playing a guitar, and doing a prance.
The prissy cat is sleeping; she simply won't dance.
There’s a squirrel in the vending machine,
I’ll bet that he thinks he is very keen.
He’s eating up all of the jelly beans!
He’s the worst irritant that I have seen.
He’s devoured all the animal crackers,
pretzels and banana chips, that slacker;
a thieving fur ball of a nut cracker,
who has become a snack machine hacker.
Such a formidable machine invader,
an uninvited and loathsome raider.
I wish I had baby alligator,
to fix him good for stealing my ‘taters!
But as I gaze upon his chomping snoot,
my heart melts because he is very cute.
I suppose my anger is really moot;
perhaps he’d like a bite of Kiwi fruit.
Your nose looks like it’s avoiding the smell coming up from your toes, you stick it in my business assume half the show and there you go ranting in an unctuous fashion slideshow of passion as you start thrashing a subtle superior bashing try and play down your snoot forgetting what suits as you honk your honour with contradictions full hollow concerning yourself with yourself and branding others supercilious as though super serious issues are confused away delirious as you don’t see the relevance with your narcissistic outlook and self absorbed intelligence assured you’re enlightened while others petty fighting up there on your balcony talk of level unity while you stare down assumably, remove yourself if you don’t know don’t tell me how I should go
I'm sleeping amongst mass hysteria
Compulsed with my own mania
Are we living in a fallen world
Is it a sign of the end, settled
O' Corona, Corona
Please go away
I full of snoot and decay
Don't know what to say
It’s scary, snarly
I cough, rasp, wheeze
Speak hoarsely
I'm old and weary
But none the wiser
I hear my angel whisper
In the sweet hereafter
It was just a dream stupor
State of mind rapture
Devoid of Corona exposure
Wish I were intelligent enough to write poetry in
three or four lines.
Anything over that? A poetic crime!
Eight lines is acceptable if I'm quirky or cute?
Or use imagery like, uh,the moon is in a strawberry
boot?
Or a lovely butterfly flew up my sexy snoot?
Stars are a must here as we all know.
That word alone steals any poem and drags in
Drooling.
I hope you all realize, I am just fooling))
Heck! We only live once.
5/14/2019
12:30 pm PST
Looking mighty cute
Dressed in a suit
He was on route
To pick up a loot
Ever so resolute
Arrived at the institute
He thought he heard them call him a cloot
Or maybe it was a galoot
He really wasn’t absolute
These days his hearing is acute
They said he had to wait over by the chute
They had something to compute
Just a problem to troubleshoot
So they had themselves a moot
He thought they meant we don’t give a hoot
Meanwhile after adjusting his boot
He sat and ate both halves of a grapefruit
Then while waiting he played his flute
With his good eye watching things convolute
He too has his moments to be astute
They looked intensely involute
The teller in her jumpsuit was a beaut
The manager a snoot and a brute
He could tell by their salute
They were in cahoot’
Hold’it! Hit the pause or press the mute
His patience growing ever so minute
He could tell there’d been a fraudulent substitute
Persecute Prosecute There’s going to be a lawsuit
Someone’s been tempted by the forbidden fruit
Submitted on December 21, 2018 for contest BUNNY JUMP HONEY LUMP FUNNY CHUMP sponsored by CAREN KRUTSINGER - RANKED 3RD
Originally posted on February 17, 2018
Perky, pesky, pretty-petite;
yippy, yappy, always-in-need-of-a-treat.
Loving, lazy, little-lump;
Cutie, cuddly, see-how-high-I-can-jump?
Spoiled, sneaky, snacky snoot,
Munching on old chips, teething on mum's leather boot,
overly-sweet, oogling oaf,
maybe-just-a-bite-or-perhaps-the-whole-loaf.
Sea Spray (getting my salt on again)
Shake the cobwebs from my mind
hidden places elusive
hard even for me to find
shedding layers, strings unwind
Grow me a red beard
shave my head, shipboard doo
thinking clearly, feeling weird
situations often worse than feared
Making up recipes for camel ball soup
eel meat, pinches of saffron
powdered rhino snoot
For now, no more baby poop
Up another gangway leaving it all behind
one more Captains office, ‘Articles’ signed
taking the watch, changing the clocks
Exactly what am I trying to find
***
Through salt stained window dawn rises
rubs the whitecaps from her eyes
and stretches. . . on forever
***
Eat your citrus get in the loop
prevents scurvy maybe even the whoop
potatoes or yams, one pound a day
And you, yet to get a sloop
Birth of a new child
Brings joy to the world
A new beginning
A circle of hope
No beginning and no end
You learn to talk
Then told to be quiet
You learn to walk
Only to be pushed about for miles
You learn to use your hands
To its enth degree
But told don’t touch
unless it belongs to thee.
This is how your life progresses
You learn but told not to do
there is one word
that cocks a snoot at us all
It’s used with fear
yet welcomed by some
Death……………
The Music Room
By Elton Camp
Mrs. Van Snoot, of the arts is a patron
She’s a stuffy, self-righteous matron
Who wants all, her virtues to see
Of any vices, she is entirely free
In the fundamentalist church, she’s a pillar
Pure living and sobriety are what thrill her
“Liquor’s never passed my lips,” she said
“Before I’d imbibe, I’d far rather be dead.”
Late afternoon and well into the night
In her music room she’s locked up tight
A huge bass fiddle is on display
It serves in a decidedly uncultured way
For its front can be pushed aside
A well-stocked bar it does hide
Mrs. Van Snoot loves wine, whisky, & gin
Completing the rounds, she starts again
Enjoying culture, for her, goes so far
And then she needs to visit her bar
I'm a sea captain!
Don't need a microphone !
I watched you take a back spin
With the skills I've honed
You pre picked your pansy pearl
Thought I didn't know it?
You presented your gargantuan
giggly girl
But didn't expect the Floating Poet
To the fart scoundrel of snoot port
Who saw the need was dire
Had the art counsel of Beaufort
Promise 2nd and 3rd to out of town
liars
(along with money and nice hotel
rooms)
It was a nice thing you did for her
The unethical proposition
She was the winner the judges
concur
But it was a liars competition
these are the last words you'll hear
From me there's no protest
But I'd like to see appear
An honest liars contest
Since it had nothing to do with luck
Let these words forever harass
cause I think you all suck
and you can take this cheap kazoo
you gave me and shove it up
your................
He's up in the morning at 7 a.m.
Black coffee and paper. Toast and jam
His hair is perfection. His tie is secure
He's ready to take on the day
From home to the office, a 90 minute trip
Dumbass drivers and cell phone quips
Thoughts for the job that race through his head
To help earn himself better pay
A tiger by nine, he's doing just fine
Then noon brings a lunch that's followed by wine
From one until five he then starts to morph
When it's off to the bar for some more
A couple of shots with a beer back to boot
Three hours later he's got a full snoot
An illegal drive from the bar to his home
Now he can really tie one on
The morning sun shines on the man he should be
The evening brings a change by degree
The evil elixir turns man to a monster
With all sense of sanity gone
Rockman
For the "Dr. Jekyll And Mr. Hyde" contest by Yasmin Khan
7th place winner.
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