Whop Poems | Examples

It all dpends

I know you can groove
but I wanna see you
dance
i wanna see you dance
I wanna see you dance
Dance
Dance
Dance for me.....
---------------------------------------

It all depends
and those who
so evers
and whats going on
and who's deemed clever
taken in account to
the calender
your plans and mine
and to what
each prefers
it al depends
it all depends

Giving consideration
to your cumstance
I'm opened to agreeing
dancers need preparation
lyrics need beleiving
it all depends
how the music takes it's
groove
whether they wanna shuck
and jive
or the people wanna
party and groove
it all depends
it just all depends

shoo be doo whop bop
skit doo be dooy
ah uh ooh we
doo be do be
shoo be doo woop woop
ah doo we doo we
ah doo we do ah
ah shoo be doo we

It all depends
in such consideration
what are we doing
what are saying
what's the rules
to what obligations
it all depends
it just all depends

sensitive neighbor woundz

.
                             soon
                    mine pretty shall
                             preen
                      front mine see
                         cross ourn
                             creek

                 soon her brother shall
                             grunt
                      'bout mine see
                          cross ourn
                             creek

                            Thump 
                          whilst still
                             Lump
                         she preenz

                            vernal
                           dream'd
                           dream'n
                             Whop

Nonsensical Word Play

all gym op Ill chumps free caw’s paces.
ball brim bop dill thumps see jaw’s maces.
call crim cop grill pumps knee saw’s cases.
nonsensical word play is the aces!

doll dim drop shrill humps plea yaw’s places.
fall flim flop frill rumps tree slaw’s glaces.
hall him hop jill lumps dee flaw’s races.
sing song rhythm leaves graces.

enthrall limb lop bill dumps knee straw's laces
mall mim mop cill grumps lee vaw's faces
paul prim pop hill stumps wee heehaw's praces
melody keeps me jumping glaces

saul stem stop zill mumps jee gnaw’s braces
tall grim plop thrill plumps zee draw’s vasesp
wall whim whop pill frumps kee shaw’s daces
loving this poem and her traces.

Floral Friends In Support

Form: Lind30 

 Lovely tulips in bright bloom
ring in March with parrot tops
though the winds do pack their whop
with irises they withstand the strain.



3-3-2022
MARCH IN Poetry Contest
Andrea Dietrich

Is Whoo An Excited Who

Who is a strange word
always seem adjacent
Slightly off the tilt
As if spurned by other words
and whom
seem to invite judgement
but then is lost
in the whole
Are they measured in whop per
Or is it just a lie
Some words could who comfort
Whoa where did that come from
Picked up a how by mistake
S .who and e are  here
Don't know whoSe they are
as who is to choose
is so close to twit a twit hoo
Is whoo an excited who

Magical Mystical Hypnotic Me

Magical mystical hypnotic me
Tragical tristical erotic whee
Exotic purpuric robotic see?
Magical mystical hypnotic me

Unfortunately I get these Seuss rhymes of blue,
Making up words faster than I have any right to
It is like my muse is on fire with silliness 
I have to go along, with her crazy willy-ness

I dance and prance my way through this reluctantly
Wishing I could stop and get myself a cup of tea
But Trixie my arrogant muse is not to be thwarted or stopped
She is in charge of my dendrite alley, and will give me a whop.

Magical mystical hypnotic me
Tragical tristical erotic whee
Exotic purpuric robotic see?
Who else has this trouble besides little ‘ole me?

If I Were Looney

On the bus I pass by a building
We refer to as the looney bin
I can’t help but be looking

I see patients that aren’t locked in
They hang out catching a ray of sun
While smoking with an air of chagrin

They never look like they’re having fun
I think if I were in the looney ward
I’d want to escape the blah phenomenon

I’d want to pretend I won some big award
For being crazy happy with no reason
And I’d be laughing all day as my reward

They could accuse me of flaming treason
I wouldn’t care I’d be spreading christmas joy
No matter what the time or season

In the looney bin I’d whop it up like a real McCoy



AP: 3rd place 2020

Submitted on April 13, 2019 for contest QUIRKY TERCETS sponsored by NINA PARMENTER

Music For Lovers

Christmas looms in the background
I find it easy to
prepare for gift giving
and pray that I will
be a receiver of a gfit
I want those who are inspired by music
to come together in the spirt of love
and offer their time as love for those lovers
who need to be introduced to one another
so that they can come together
and be together as lovers
or as friends
so that we can make this world
a world of lovers
lovers and friends
people whop want to be loved
and can be loved
cso that they are one in love
as lovers and as friends.
this is how music makes 
ordinary people
into lovers
people who wish to inspire generations
of people to be lovers!

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.

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 Last Rosebud

(Triple Verse Triolet)

Six rosebuds sit atop the stem,
a hint of pink above the green,
each one a rare and lovely gem.
Six rosebuds sit atop the stem.
A chipmunk scuttles on the scene,
I watch him in the shade, unseen.
Six rosebuds sit atop the stem,
a hint of pink above the green.

Four buds remain upon the limb.
I turn my back, now only two
still blushes pink above the rim.
Four buds remain upon the limb,
a perfect foursome, although slim.
Perhaps I'll whop him with my shoe.
Four buds remain upon the limb,
I turn my back, now only two.

A chipmunk nibbles on a rose
he holds within his elfin arms.
I throw my shoe, do you suppose,
as chipmunk nibbles on my rose?
He sits upright in such a pose,
he captivates me with his charm.
A chipmunk nibbles on a rose
he holds within his elfin arms.

Come Home

Come back to the Lord
He loves taking back His own
Those who have fallen into sin
Those who left the faith to begin again

Come back to the Lord
Those who work hard on their own
Those who have a little
Those who have a lot
Those whop feel empty inside

Come back to the Lord
He died for me and for you
He came back from the grave
To share his power with all of us
It’s time to come home
At the cross, there’s always room!

Devour Duck - - - T-A-I-L-S

Men come down for fun,
Duck hover, on edge of dune.
Crowd move down, open gun,
Whop… knock off duck, under moon.   
Cook over ember, devour upon noon.


By: Greg Stanley
December 13, 2011

Heads or Tails Contest
Sponsored by nikko palmario

Pacific Street / Brooklyn, New York 1953

Pacific Street
 Brooklyn New York 1953

Mud-red clay bricks, hot and worn;
brown-stone blocks carved tenements formed.
Concrete sidewalks slit and cracked
where children skipped a hopscotch tack.

Hear the smack of bats to ball 
of palm to rubber against towering walls;
Of jump ropes whooshing through the air
of giggling girls with bouncing hair.

Smell the pretzels salt and sweet,
the chicken soup and borsht to eat.
Bubba’s breast, the rose perfume;
seet cigarette smoke in dark hall rooms.

Taste the vanilla ice cream cone 
with chocolate shell that 
Dad’s brought home.
The hot red fire ball, candy treats
the egg cream soda down the street.

Do whop Ditty songsters
 in August’s heat.

Bubba’s calling from window peaks.
And Tanta’s rocking babies sweet.
Brooklyn, Brooklyn in the street.

My Mommy

Soft and round with smiling eyes
Baking candies, cookies, cakes and pies.

No better chef could ever be
Than my dearest sweet mommy.

Mrs. Claus could not compete
With my dearest sweet mommy.

She could even charm the birds.
I saw her myself, you can take my word.

And when I fell and bumped my knee,
She was there to comfort me.

When I was sick and felt so bad,
She found ways to make me glad.

When I was bad she gave me a whop
And told me why I had to stop.

Everyday she taught to me
The things she knew that I would need.

Now I am grown and she is gone.
I’ve missed her so much for so very long.

In my memories now I see her face,
Her smiling eyes and gentle grace.

I can see her still charming the birds
Or angles perhaps with her comforting words.

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