Strop Poems | Examples

the girl on the monkey bars

Never will she stop

beetroot chops

My daughter's Tenth time 

swinging across

Children behind waiting, 

their arms crossed in a strop

I call out and say, 

Being fair you are not

Then reaching quickly 

she climbed to the top

Pointing her finger toward

the near ice cream shop

I nod in agreement 

Both are smiling a lot 

My daughter runs over 

excited and hot

Barbers Old and Young

I took my son to the barbers today, and I sat there and I thought about how it compared to when I was small,

All of the equipment is battery driven, but way back when it was scissors that were usually blunt,

The seat for a child was a plank of wood, but now they have a comfortable seat to make them feel good.

They asked my son about his style, but a long time ago it was just short back and sides.

The tools they use today seems to be all throw away as I look around the shop, 
but a long time ago they were sharpened on a long leather strop.

My son got to choose who cut his hair, he chose Rosa, but I had only one choice, old Bob Fenner and I am absolutely certain he charged less than a tenner!

Booted Out

The young say that granddads have ruined their lives
They’re getting themselves in a strop
But can they explain why, when they want jack boots
They go to a fancy dress shop

Art and Crafts

Tina learnt to knit her own sweater
Instructions followed to the letter
Many stitch she did drop
Gave too many a strop
When made looked like been through a shredder

Next she wanted to learn to crochet
Make flowers tied into a bouquet
Got her yarn in a twist
Knots and ties would not shift
But did look like a crochet toupee

Decided to learn how to hand sew
With pretty ribbon make a hairbow
Kept pricking her finger
Soreness pain did linger
Her fingers now size of her elbow

Not to give up, tried live art drawing
Felt that was her natural calling
Excited and nervous
Felt hot as a furnace
Of male model on all fours posing

No dangly bits was shown to be drawn
Disappointed felt little bit conned
She drew him very well
All her friends she did tell
As an artist was were she belonged.


            18.12.20

Comer's Stand

Seems we walked away the morning
Hil and I hiking toward Comer's Stand
Stopping awhile to swing on a grapevine
Identifying the wooded birds singing
We ate our lunch in early afternoon-
A peanut butter and jelly concoction
With raisins from Grandma's cupboard
And stocks of celery purloined, I think,
From the crisper of Mama's Frigidaire
All tied together in a hobo's feed sack
High adventure the trek to Comer's stand.

Worth the fate awaiting our return
For no corn was hoed, no garden weeded
Even though Papa had said, "Today, my boy! "
There would be neither excuse nor reason
Why I should not feel the crack of the strop
But the pain did not erase the grand
Time we had …hiking to Comer's Stand.

Monday

Monday
Quick! Arm the army
Lucifer has gone barmy
Where’s the witch when we need her?
Having a strop, the silly mare
Stoke the anger of battle
This is more than tittle tattle

Rumours be damned
Satan’s got this thing planned
She primed up her flying disc
A big win came with equal risk
With luck her enemy would be drunk
His power,  nob and ego may have shrunk

Like the niceness he once had
Before he went all black and bad
Getting the boot from God upon high
So much became nigh!
It was up to the witch now
To turn the Devil into a cow!

With cunning and luck
She’ll hit him like a damn truck
And end this thing
Like a failed bloody fling
But that was impossible
Like a flying pig was possible










Juniper’s Daughter: Fookin' Weech

Nick Armbrister

Clearly Weak

You can’t admit wrong 
And always blame me
Act as though strong 
when clearly weak 
Rage and shout 
childishly
Create the scenes 
disrupt the peace 
Paranoid 
think you’re headstrong 
Easily annoyed 
turn red and strop 
No one can tell you you’re the problem 
You’re emotional hell that doesn’t stop

Fido

Fido

I took Fido out for a walk
I knew that the neighbours would talk
His ears stood up proud
His breathing was loud
And his teeth were like big lumps of chalk

I bought Fido only last week
From a bloke I met down by the creek
Although he's quite massive
He’s ever so passive
And even with cats he’s quite meek

I tied him up outside a shop
He got in a bit of a strop
He pulled on his rope
The shop couldn’t cope
And collapsed on an off duty cop

I walked Fido down past the school
Why are kids always so cruel
One dunderhead chided
‘That thing should be rided’
You can’t educate a damned fool

We called on the mother in law
He piddled all over her floor
She mopped up her Lino
Said, ‘There’s one thing I know,
A dairy cow couldn’t pee more.’

I left feeling guilty of course
Saying Fido was full of remorse
‘Fido!’ She said,
‘You’ve been misled,’
And, ‘That’s a strange name for a horse.’

Values In Life 2

Without values life may whop
And you cannot even yawp
As the destiny may strop
A valueless person nonstop.
If your values from life lop
It is zilch and make you fop –
Fop – a man with concern atop
For dress than character prop.
Without values we may drop;
Cannot stand or walk; sit or hop.
So respect values that clearly mop
All bad, illicit or forbidden crop.

Sanmati My Inspiration

Sanmati, my messenger, is no more a milksop.
Ardent though is she never will yawp.
Nagging sometimes though in some shop.
Merrily walks in crowd alone till atop.
Amends her needs; tackles one with strop-
Till he agrees with her, else does lop.
In always high spirits, ready to swop
Joy or sorrow equally treats like gumdrop.
Angry if treats us like a bellhop
In our home or out, but never plop
Nor cry in public to show us flop.

Books a Resource Part 1

Book is the only stop
Where all halt from top
For knowledge or whop
Of all sort and thoughts slop.
Though it clear drains prop
For teacher or for carhop.
They are vaguely clear lop
Whenever read makes plop
Of cognition to take you atop.
This is for money a great swop.
These are sooth in great strop
For those who keep them at doorstop.
What a pleasure they are as sop.
I loved to have ignorance to mop.

The Life of a Bull

The life of a bull is never dull
I am always kept on the hop
Told to go from cow to cow
- There's never a chance to stop

The life of a bull is never dull
The finest food I am always eating
And my cousins in Spain, it's very plain
Give the matadors a beating

The life of a bull is never dull
So, I never get in a strop
I write the odd song and a poem or two
Though, I admit, this one's over the top

The life of a bull is never dull
I am the king of the herd
Treat me well and I'll breed for your every need
It's a pleasure to keep my word

The life of a bull is never dull
I graze to the sound of hip-hop
Just one lesson to heed, for your sake I plead…
Keep me away from your china shop

Superdooper What's It

We are all entrapped
By the must have media game
My friend at work has got one
So I must get one the same
Or maybe even better
I’ll get the next one up
I bet that when I show him
He will really get the strop
It will be all singing and all dancing
With a multi what’s its name
I will speak to Outer Space on it
And play all my favourite games
No more will I be hindered
To only going out at night
I can hold my head up high
And go out in the daylight
With my super dooper what’s it
Clutched tight in my right hand
Making all around me envious
Will make me feel very grand

Fickle Fickle - For Every Man In a Pickle

WARNING: The following poem is a figment of the author's imagination and deals with fictional characters.....WOMEN! ;) (THIS IS FOR FUN, GIRLS, SO DON'T GO AND GET ALL HUFFY AND PUFFY ON ME!)

Fickle Fickle - For Every Man in a Pickle 


Fickle fickle…. Broads are fickle
Get a man into a pickle
Sweet talk sweet talk…. Yes they tickle
Treat us lower than a nickle

Chat up chat up does belie
Gives us bites of ego pie

Flirty flirty… grows the storm
Disappears like the norm

Riding riding is her wave
Naughty naughty to her grave

Touch up touch up where she can
Making sure that he’s a man 

Swish and sway, what a sight
Thinking she is dynamite

Tries to see how far he’ll go
Gets to third base, she says no

Fickle fickle, fizzle…. Strop
Mess with me, I’ll make you stop.

In Response to Auntie Eileen Ghali
For her Fickle Fickle poem

In Stills

I ask myself have I come to a stand still
Is this a halt?, or is this only a full stop
Because if I were to get back up that hill
I think I'd need a catapult to reach the top

Perhaps the fact I have now lost the will
Maybe a lighting bolt though I think I'd drop
And yet again, the same old run of the mill                                          
Is it my fault if everything becomes a flop?

Again I need that high, looking for that thrill
Ignoring an insult if one dose take a pop
It's that same old feeling, again having nil
Feeling like an empty vault, a worthless crop 

It's true what they say there's no magic pill
Follow a cult but I'd just skip and jump to hop
I'm told I've got nothing to lose go for the kill
But though I revolt, because I’m in this strop
 

Again another introspection taken from ideas
older wonder with pattern again another interpretasion
of ones self written by myself davidscott feb 2013
probably makes no sense
but whats going on in my head right now dont
just another way of clearing my head a bit  STILL,,,,,,,,,,,,,
STILL TRYING TP ADD EXTRA VERSE
MAYBE IN FUTURE

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