Yer Poems

I Don't Know Who Yer Talkin' 'Bout

He Was
All Cowboy
With No Hat.

I'd Kindly
Invite You
In For A Chat.

I Don't Know
If A Cat Can
Talk, But...

I Don't Have
A Cat.

Don't Bust
Anything.

Christmas On The Isthmus; Fer yer Consideration

Please rate 1-10
(1 Santa would be proud or
  10 A coal in your stocking!)

A white Christmas in Chicagee don't make no sense
Bout time we skeedaddle, let good times commence

So where to go, my darlin' Maggie and me
As we swig down our egg nog and pack our tree?

The lil' miss and I'll be spendin' this Christmas
Way down yonder on the Panama Isthmus

There's a honky-tonk there on the ol' canal
Tequilla will be flowin' for me and my gal

No Law Yer Joke

     contracts, torts, estates

        sounds boring

        ~ ought to be a law

Its in yer face

Oh trudeau 'in your troubled place' with idea-ology so out
Of place!
Sad to see the ( experiment?) Has destroyed Canada
With much dis-content!
Many people homeless, in a bountiful land? What were you
Doing?
Was this always the plan?
For it seems? That just like dominos falling there is a pattern
That some are installing'
You've done a lot' you've snorted deep! You've rode the wave of the peoples sleep'
You've met the demons.' You've danced the dance; took
The oath.'
You're in the trance' hell has bought you, your spirit is gone
Gods turning you over' you're pure wrong!

Not Yer Fancy High Falutin' Writer

I write about everyday happenings
That's my style and I'm sticking with it
I'm not yer fancy, highfalutin' writer
Down to earth stuff is what I emit

I sometimes get naughty, God forbid
Try to keep it down to a minimum
A fine old gentleman from way up north
An honourable upstanding citizen

Have you had enough, are you feeling ill
So sorry, but I really must emote
I'm a Leo you know so don't blame me
Not responsible if sometimes I gloat

A handsome devil, I'll give you that
Learned to live with girlie's attention
Quite like it, makes me feel quite frisky
And relieves my sexual tension

So that's me, I'm just an ordinary fellow
Not yer fancy, highfalutin' writer
Stick to the basics, just ordinary stuff
Known as a lover not as a fighter

Kick Up Yer Heels

Cock-a-doodle-doo! Time is come for you 
to raise yer head, get out of bed.
Strum a note or two.

If you cain’t strum, pick and grin – hum a lick.
Enjoy the fun till ‘morrow come. 
Buzz a note or two.

If you cain’t hum, blow and suck – mount a show.
Play yer juice harp, B flat C sharp.
Spit a tune or two.

If you cain’t blow tune, howl at the full moon.
Pick a cowgirl – turn, twist, and twirl.
Make them girls swoon.

Laid out with dry cows, gotta git up – rouse
You ain’t home yet, ain’t lost yer bet.
Dodged them hoosegows!

Time to saddle up, stop for a li’l cup.
Coffin varnish – insides tarnish –
Feel like a pup.

A day for hard work, not somethin’ to shirk.
Head Texas big, hitchin’ the rig.
Kick’n heels hurts!

Santa - Stop Yer Boozin'

For months Santa tossed back barrels of brews

   He was so fat he got stuck in the flues

      Ms Santa warned he might croak

         Choking on billowing smoke

            And to lay off his gross guzzling of booze

Entry for Tania Kitchin's "Holiday Themed Limerick Poetry" Contest
(18 November 2019)
Placed No. 2 in the contest

I Tank Yer

I Tank Yer

I tank yer fer da guitar ’an an empty bottle o’ booze,
‘An I tank yer fer hav’n run out on me ‘an ma.
I tank yer fer run’n real fa,
‘An I tank yer fer giv’n us nutt’n to loose.

I tank yer fer ruin’n my life thru ‘an thru,
‘An tank yer fer makn’ me fight many a folk.
I tank yer fer makn’ my life a run’n joke,
‘An I tank yer fer nam’n me Sue. 

I tank Johnny Cash for his dang song and fer mak'n my dad too dang dumb ‘an too wrong.
I tank all the bars, 
‘An all the whisky, ‘an all the ha’ars.
‘An I tank that this poem is too dang long.

Good night!

by, Martin Braun
11/29/2018

On Yer Bike

my brand new Harley
tight leathers
the freeway beckons

A biker’s dozen contest
Sponsored by Maureen McGreavy

9/28/18

He's Got Yer Heart

HE'S GOT YER HEART


Mama mustn’t cry He’s got your heart
Mama mustn’t cry He’s got your heart
OH, Lord have no fear, Jesus is near
Mama musn’t cry He’s got your heart

Daddy need to pray unto the Lord
Daddy need to pray unto the Lord
What’s ya waiten fer
Gotta speak unto  the Lord
Better pay homage before it’s over

Brother, Brother why must you cry
Sister, sister why’d you die
OH, Lord have no fear, Jesus is near
My family don’t ya worry He’s got your heart
God will rest in you N giv you a brand new start

9/11/18
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr. ©2018
From anthology “Old Time ***** Spirituals”

Whatever Floats Yer Boat

whatever floats yer boat
paint a picture
sing a song
even write a note
just get out
and tell yer story
whatever floats yer boat

the message
is important
you could paint
it on a goat
just get out 
and tell yer story
whatever floats yer boat

a writer sings
a painter paints
an author uses words
it's no good
unless the message
isn't seen or heard

keeping thoughts as secret
isn't good and here is why
because sharing brings them life
and otherwise they'll die

write a letter
do a play
or even bake a cake
the message
it is important
who cares what form it takes

say it loud
or scream it
even put it in a song
opinions
are for sharing
even if they're wrong

a writer sings
a painter paints
an author uses words
it's no good
unless the message
isn't seen or heard

keeping thoughts as secret
isn't good and here is why
because sharing brings them life
and otherwise they'll die

paint a picture
sing a song
even write a note
just get out
and tell yer story
whatever floats yer boat

Quit Yer Bellyachin'

Stop complainin’ ‘bout how much
yer stomach hurt
It’s yer own fault that yer feelin’ that way
Got a heavy Ding Dong diet
of cream-filled, empty truth lies
Low-cal info givin’ ya no energy news blues
Creatin’ irregular bowel movements
that keeps sendin’ ya ta da bathroom
It’s yer own double dog fault,
so quit yer bellyachin’
Just pop a truth pill that gives the fizz ...
suck the liquid medicin’ down,
drink all of it
And change yer diet, change it quick
Otherwise, yer gonna keep gettin’ sick

Jeans Hanging Down Past Yer Butt

When did it become kosher to show your butt
Jeans hanging down showing your you-know-what
The crack in your hide
And the hairiness besides
Should be a law to control these guys as they strut

Jeans Hanging Down Past Yer Bum

When did it become kosher to show your butt
Jeans hanging down showing your you-know-what
The crack in your hide
And hairiness besides
Should be a law to control these guys as they strut


© Jack Ellison 2015

The Pleasure of Yer Company

Come in, come in and sit ye doon
a warm spot by the fire's for ye 
the kettle's on and 'bout to sing
a cuppa's brewing soon for two

Come in, come in and sit ye doon
there's so much that you need te hear
I kenna keep it to me self
such sorrow needs a friendly ear

Come in, come and sit ye doon
I've such a sorry tale to share,  
the world's a hard and nasty place
me fate's unkind and life's unfair

Come in, come in and sit ye doon
ye ken, I'd love your company
there's nay so treasured as a friend
for poor, wee me, Miss Misery

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