Mother Nature does scowl
At greedier leaders howl
As our planet we do foul
Seedier media on the prowl
Don’t throw in the towel
We now live cheek by jowl
Don’t be a plastic freak
Like Simon Cowell
Or return to bombastic peak
Of Enoch Powell
At the meek did growl
A rebuild we all seek
Let’s get out the trowel
Don't need clues
Who lit the fuse
Of Soho's Blues
No old codgers
No bother bodgers
No dodgy lodgers
Just Oisin Rogers
And tax dodgers
Want it to be bland
Class not brass band
Just like the Strand
But any proper city
Needs a bit of shi*ty
Can't be too pretty
Needs a bit of gritty
So would be a pity
Don't throw in the towel
The midnight howl
Needs cheek by jowl
Seeds a bit of foul
Feeds owl on the prowl
So don't let it be panned
Our cult adult wonderland
That is the Soho brand
The husband decided
To take a stand
Assert his rights
Make his demand
Thought he was holding
All the cards in his hand
Now he realizes
Things did not go as planned
His brain and his mouth
Left his heart unmanned
Anger and bitterness
Quite eloquently spoke
The heart left with no defense
Naturally got broke
The wife watches quietly
As not once she spoke
For none of this madness
Did she evoke
What a cruel.. cruel joke
Mess with her head
Breakup a marriage instead
Joker~vs~Jester
Throw in the towel enough said
Tongue Tied in Clichés: A Blessing in Disguise
A blessing in disguise,
a double-edged sword—
a far cry from peace,
yet all in all,
at the drop of a hat
we reach for a ballpark figure,
beat around the bush,
break new ground,
burn the midnight oil.
By the book we cut to the chase,
play devil’s advocate,
fill the void with food for thought,
start from scratch,
then get cold feet.
Give the green light,
go down in flames,
hit the nail on the head,
find ourselves in over our head,
jump on the bandwagon,
keep something at bay,
leave no stone unturned.
Out of our depth,
past the point of no return,
we read between the lines,
take it with a grain of salt,
see only the tip of the iceberg—
until at last we throw in the towel.
When Kublai got a poo poo butt he would go and hide
the silly dog with his mess seem embarrassed and shy
But Genghis with his hind mess was eager for me to spy
he would trot in searching for me his eagerness beware
Wanted me to pick him up and tend to his dirty rear.
Off we go to clean him good and happy he would be
to have a clean behind made him playful indeed.
But Kublai would be missed after a little while
I would have to search and find my shy little pal.
His eyes were sad and his face long and droopy
we both knew he had a mess the little poopy
So I cleaned him up and trim there
for the old boy had quick growing hair
Than I would pick him up to hold
as he would lick my face being thankful so.
Sassy has short hair so that problem does not exist
but like Kublai the older she is the longer her hair gets
Having dogs is like having a little child
messy situations pop up but you never throw in the towel
Sometimes you want to cry but more often you laugh and smile.
If you’re down and about, and you don’t know where you’re going
That you’re so overcome with doubt, and you know that it’s showing
Just know that you’re not in all alone and each time you made it before
And each time you have grown in getting ready for what's next in store
But you say this time is different You’ve never been at this point before
With depression you’re so hellbent thinking that’ll even the score
But I know you’re going to succeed because that’s your pattern in life
And this lesson you’ll also heed
for the next time that you face strife
And though it may seem so far away, and you’re just not able to make it
So far off of your way that you just want to throw in the towel and quit
Remember what happens when we pray I for you and maybe you for me
That’s when the tides start to sway and your soul starts feeling free
But you have rarely ever prayed before for it’s a God you don’t believe in
Almost to the point you deplore
because you feel as though you can’t win
But that clearly is not the case as he carries you in this very moment
Continually extending you grace in that one day you’ll finally repent
tiptoeing
through a minefield
f r a u g h t
with combustible opportunities
a groom
jilted at the altar by bride
who'd rather stay
"just friends."
humiliated at his wedding,
still reeling
from devastating heartbreak,
yet he won't throw in the towel.
he's sucked back into
the rabbit hole of presentiment.
family and friends
scratch their heads
in frustration;
they push him
to make a clean break...
" leave this woman, she will hurt you, again!,"
they implore.
s e n s i n g
inevitable trouble
on the horizon,
they preach safety first,
yet, he stubbornly chooses
to flirt
with danger;
so it's back to square one.
he still loves her, deeply,
but does she?
I'm really much too young to get old
Something's drastically out of whack
I'm still this handsome, charismatic stud
Why's my body giving me flack?
A strange bump just formed on my neck
Don't think it was there yesterday
My hair seems a bit thinner and greyer
But I'm still young in all other ways
My body is falling apart, bit by bit
Takes me an hour to put on my pants
I wheeze while watching sports on TV
My wife never asks me to dance
There must be a pill old geezers can take
To slow down this aging tommyrot
I'm not ready yet for an old folks home
I feel like I'm still pretty hot
This can't be, I'm much too young
To say 'uncle' and throw in the towel
Gonna fight like hell and never give up
If only I could control my bowels!
Why did the chicken cross Abbey Road?
Because it was there,
but which came first?
Obviously, not the egg,
as it has no legs.
The first chicken to cross the road,
feeling peckish,
not one to throw in the towel,
when told, 'Walk, don't run a fowl,'
and, faster than a speeding pullet,
or so it is said,
was one giant leap for poultry,
one small step
for a Rhode Island Red.
But, by the look on the freckled face
of the old speckled hen,
arriving alive on the other side,
her tranquility was not expanded,
when she heard the words announced,
'The Eagle has landed!'
I'm really much too young to get old
Something's drastically out of whack
I'm still this handsome, charismatic stud
Why's my body giving me flack?
A strange bump just formed on my neck
Don't think it was there yesterday
My hair seems a bit thinner and greyer
But I'm still young in all other ways
My body is falling apart, bit by bit
Takes me an hour to put on my pants
I wheeze while watching sports on TV
My wife never asks me to dance
There must be a pill old geezers can take
To slow down this aging tommyrot
I'm not ready yet for an old folks home
I feel like I'm still pretty hot
This can't be, I'm much too young
To say 'uncle' and throw in the towel
Gonna fight like hell and never give up
If only I could control my bowels!
I don't know if you know
You are the reason I survive
It was you who saved me
You're the reason I'm alive
I was in a dark place
In a bad state of mind
I was depressed and thought
There was no hope I'd find
I was done and ready to quit
About to throw in the towel
Then I thought of you crying
And that stopped me somehow
I found just enough hope
In you to pull me through
In the darkest place I've been
I found the light of you
Was it just another fiended out over dose?
Or a dire plea to end her curse and broken hopes?
WHY
MUST
EVERYTHING
ALWAYS
HURT
the daily struggle got me spent
My wings are broken
And my halo been bent
Tryna throw in the towel,
But I'm leaned off this wett
So I stay at the bottom
til I'm moldy with regrets*
My scars lives inside and out seems undetectable to
the unaided eye. These scars
Damaging effects traumas, pangs layers of scars one
may not understand, Me, Myself and I. These scars
Curveballs of epiphanies, tactics; Full of blindside's
thrown at me in all directions, now in distress and
torment wants to be friend me. These scars
Booby traps launched beyond one's control. These scars
Questions often hovers over my crown why? I deserve
these damaging effects. These scars
Pondering should I throw in the towel? Almost held me
hostage, draining my will to press on towards my journey.
These scars
I'm no longer your prisoner set me free, So I can meet my
destiny, you no longer have power over me. These scars
Do you think you figured out one out?
One's tests and trials one has endured alone,
only to be criticized and judged.
One has been taken on frivolous detours and
useless dead-end, situations. Yet one thought
you figured one out? Didn't you.
Tests are One's testimonies, trials are One's
tribulations, One has endured did you think one
was about to throw in the towel and give up?
You thought you had one figured out?
One's noise was one's point of destination also to
redefine one's path.
Some will say they care yet one's actions are just
mere words, You thought you had one figured out?
One will continue to rise out of the ashes like a Phoenix.
They shoot horses too
The US president tells Israel not to enter Gaza
Israel enters anyway, which tells us the might
of the Jewish lobby trumps everything, leaving
the US, looking weak
The students, who are not, yet, corrupted
protest against Israel, arrested and jailed and
worst college teacher spies on the students
report to the CIA.
When the whole of the Western world is unable
to stop the genocide in Gaza, one can be tempted
to throw in the towel and befriend the devil
and do as the three monkeys
I can go on and protest forever, which is good
for my consciousness and be used to be called
an anti-Semite, taking this into consideration
anti-Semite might turn out to be a compliment
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.