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Nimrod kiptoo Sep 2023
I asked what he does for a living.
He said I can show you,
then he moonwalked half a mile.
He could be a great dancer,
but I think he was an astronaut.
I love me a puny poem
Filomena Aug 2022
Irritable bowels.
I'm dressed in only towels.

As my face is scanned,
I have a better hand.

A compliment is hushed.
I guess I'm straight flushed.
Psych ward poetry.
Set 3, poem 31.
Filomena Aug 2022
I dress in brand new rags.
This rag dress brand is new.
Such clothes are meant for hags,
But I haggled closed a few.
Psych ward poetry.
Set 3, poem 45.
Deep Feb 2022
I stood there well
But fell in a Well,
They pull me out
of the Well,
I stood there thinking;

Am I well?
Kai Jan 2022
Forgot what I searched for to find heaven.
But I know that at the age of seven
I seized my mother’s phone and found a god.
He led me to an arresting world with strings.

Strings that swept your hair the way the wind does
when your ego would reach the sparkling skies.
They touched your heart no matter how heartless.

I refused to blink because if I did
I would miss a second of his gentle
fingers gliding across the maple fretboard.
And no sane person would want to miss that!

Strings danced back and forth as he played a chord.
Oh, his fingers grew sore, but calluses
helped desensitize them from aches and pain.

The instrument he mastered was waiting
to call him master cause’ guitars love how
he manipulates and makes them his slave.
Strings begged for his touch, for sounds they could make.

My eyes felt heavier than dense gym weights.
I mustn’t stop gazing if I want to
stay lost in heaven. So **** riveting!

“School is tomorrow.” “******, I forgot.”
“Give the phone back. Hmm, what are you watching?”
“Heaven.” “What did you say?” “I said heaven.”
Mom didn’t say anything afterward.

A few hours came, she asked for the phone.
I gave it to her, prepared my backpack.
Maybe in a different universe.
I would have proclaimed, “Don’t take the phone back.”
My first encounter with the most remarkable instrument: the guitar.
I think I'm full of contra-dictions
And contra-distinctions
You disagree
But you're a Sandinista!
We're bound to clash
Puns puns puns
Norman Crane Apr 2021
The British anthropologist enjoyed rare tribesmen.
But after seeing his article published in the prestigious Journal of Anthropological Research,
he kept the poor man on the coals a little longer,
thinking, "Well done, old chap."
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