My poetry teacher Miss Took
read out poems out of her book
one poem was so rude
it was verging on lewd
"Thought t'was the other, I mistook"
Golf loving Paddy from sunny Glambole
was truly a gentle fun-loving soul
but he was a big bloke,
he took a well-aimed stroke
Sara the caddy yelled "wrong hole, wrong hole”
First Placement in Tania Kitchin's Humorous or Bawdy Limerick contest
That gleam in your stare
conquers other hearts, not mine
that refuses to bend its will and reject
every smile to charm me and start to care:
up to now, I damn myself for the wrong choice,
for that decision not too wise,
because I dedicated everything
and anything to someone else,
assuming you;ve stopped caring, showing
no love, not even a gesture of kindness.
Yeah, the wrong choice
seemed perfectly fine
and the moment...
when we were carried away
by heavy loneliness;
it was both despair and agony
fighting forces stronger than destiny
to figure out what caused us to break free.
spending nights missing a sweet voice
that pushed every shadow away.
Sometimes, we all make the wrong choice...
not hoping for better and nobler things
that aren't burdened with worries;
and regardless of that choice,
it changes lives and sets a price.
So, the pieces will not fit like they’re supposed to
So, the puzzle isn’t looking like it should.
So, as usual, you bang it with your hammer
Though you know the use of force won’t do much good.
So, you rant and rage and scream and pout and pace across the floor
Then you wonder why my suitcase stands there ready by the door…
So wrong!
So wrong!
So long!
So, the trip won’t justify the destination
So, the means won’t bring you your desired ends.
So, it’s better, in your mind, to just stop trying.
‘Tis much better to just break than try to bend.
Why do you place me mentally in the box called enemy
Just to wonder why I dream of breaking out and flying free…
So wrong!
So wrong!
So long!
So, you’re begging me to stay while daring me to up and go
Then you wonder why, so late at night, I’m sneaking out the door.
So wrong!
So wrong!
So long!
The shadows are as yellow
As bloom as the grey
As dark as the meadow
As gloom as the wave
As light as the crow
Through drunken haze
And as white as the terror
When put to the chase
The sounds are as silent
As whispering as the trees
As loud as the tired
As quiet as the screams
As wailing as the leaf
Through highpitched ear’s screech
And as quiet as still
When the end meets the leech
The tastes are as bleak
As dull as the fruit
As sour as leaf
As honeyed as soot
As tangy as the peak
As sharp as the root
And so is the blade
I am no brute
The stenches are as honey
As sweet as the hay
As bland as the berry
As foul as the bay
As sour as dairy
Through the incense, heavy
And as sour as what’s underneath
When the dirt is no longer empty
The forest is harp
As metal as twigs
As hard as carp
As soft as sticks
Yet under my feet, sharp
And as such is my overwhelming belief
He - ‘ it ‘ won’t be missed, in the depths of a scarp
With glossy lips and many quips, she
Busted onto our screens,
Midst applause she chortled
And careened.' trod the boards, and praised the Lord, made
A hoard with dollywood, it all looked
good,
Then she went obscene, was a vax-keen
Queen, pumping that song, it was oh so wrong..Yet let God alone judge, He alone sees
Through all the fudge.)
His proprioceptors on fire
Johnny jumps higher and higher
His hand scrapes the rim
He dunks the ball in
Wrong rim, Johnny, howls the umpire
Not every lovestory have happy ending.
I mean just look at us .
One is happy with someone .
One is drowing in the tears .
I hate how I still had your effect.
I hate how my heart beats fast .
I hate how my eyes search you in crowd.
I hate all of me how I crave for you .
Yet I love all of this moments ,
How I feel every time .
Never confessed yet feels like we did .
Never loved yet feels like we fell .
I'm still confused thinking about us .
Whether I take your actions wrong?
Or I just got betrayed?
Have a lot to ask . What? Why? Why me?
But asusual, whenever I speak to you ,
My chest pains , my throat hurts , and my tounge?
Like it never talked to you .
Yet looking for a chance to pour my heart .
I am in a crisis with lymphangitis , ureteritis and mono from our tryst . we are through !
(Weekly Magnetic Poetry Challenge • August 17–23, 2026)
Seventy years ago by the side of the road,
a baby was born in a hole, but not to code.
Instead of a heart, he has a ticker;
but listen to this - this is the kicker:
a heart attack won't kill him. He will explode.
Moving On Don't Erase Wrong
It just proved the truth still talks
Talks through the cracks they tried to cover,
Talks through the silence they hoped would
Suppress me,
Talks through every bruise that learned how
To speak without permission.
I walk with what I encountered, not because
The story ain't done testifying.
They say "move on" like healing is hocus-pocus,
Like justice disintegrates
if you stop disclosing the wound.
But I'm built from the kind of pain that shuns
To stay quiet, the kind that looms on corners
And tells the truth with its sternum.
Moving on, don't erase wrong-it just confirms
The truth still talks, and today, I'm the one
Letting it speak.
Hear that whistle scream
On down the wrong track,
A full head of steam
And too late to go back
Know now which way was best
Could have gone south or north,
Could have been east or west
Too late to go back and forth
Not a penny to my name
Not a dime in my purse,
A light at the end never came
And the tunnel made it worse
Time... it never stumbles
And the rail never ends,
Aboard a car that rumbles
Steady around the bends
Get them wheels a' turnin'
Another shovel full of coal,
To get them embers burnin'
And just let that train a' roll.
~ Were you born in the wrong century? ~
Would you have fit in at King Arthur’s table
been a blood-stained Crusader if able
In Rome, been a patrician or plebe
or like Cassius, have a plot up your sleeve
Would you have pondered with Galileo the night sky
or been a ‘flat-earther’ who never asked why
Would you, like Washington, have forded the Delaware
even if you had but moth-eaten rags to wear
Would you have bad-mouthed cars for the sake of your horse
sabotaged phone lines to preserve Samuel Morse…
Well, let me tell you, as for me,
I would have joined Fred and Barney Flintstone
for a ride on a pterodactyl built for three
lace, lace, lace, you must pick up the pace!
this was yelled out the bus window by my cousin Jayce
Jayce is a bit touched, none of us could see what he saw
Give yourself a bit of grace, he yelled, with a hee and a haw
A student named Mace asked me what was wrong with my cousin
I could have actually come up with lists by the dozen
But I never liked this guy, so I pretended to trace a face in my book.
Jayce yelled out another weird thing; I could tell Mace was full shook
I always seem to fantasize about the same thing.
Every night when my head hits the pillow.
I'm older, more confident. Taller even.
I bump into you in town, just mooching around. Probably window shopping cause I can never make rent on time.
We bump shoulders. I turn and apologize politely and you recognize me. You'll have to remind me your name because you remember I'm bad with faces but I need no reminder.
Those eyes, the direct mirror to my own soul.
You'll say, "oh my God, how have you been?" And I'll smile and say, "I've been doing good. It's good to see you" and we exchange new numbers.
A week goes by and you reach out wanting to catch up over coffee.
I'll go.
Pretending I'm not searching your hands for a ring.
You catch me doing so but you don't mention it.
We hug goodbye.
I'd like to sit and think that it would progress.
Two kids in a farm house. The whole picket white fence. The real American dream. But even my dreams are realistic these days.
They know it'll fizzle out, the same way it did before.
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