"lawnchair" poems - Hello Poetry

Byron wants me to invite all my friends on HP to a pig roast. Rest assured, when Byron has a pig roast fun is surely to be expected. Here's his invitation. You're invited to my pig roast. I told him he'd have to do better, that he's talking to a collection of rhymers, wordsmiths, and gesticulating anthropomorphics. He had no idea what the **** I just said, but he did do an edit. Here's his edit. You're Invited to My Pig Roast Your toad on the road Only squats, never stands, Or sits 'til he splits Between the treads of your van. Your mouse in the house, If it isn't found out, Drops pellets in pots, 'Til snap, then it stops. Your bird on the wire Sweetly sings then lets fire; And a cat in a hat Is cute, but that's that. Your horse from the stable Won't be served from your table; And the deer by the brook, Well, too much the Bambi to cook. Yes a bear in the wood Indeed craps where it should; He's best left alone While your meat's on your bone. Then there is the PIG. A ruddy pink porker, Intelligent and clean, An innocuous oinker. It does nothing that's heinous, And yes, it should shame us, As it lies silently smiling With a spit up its **** Please bring your own lawnchair, ***** and women. The pig's on me.

0

Jun 19, 2014

Jun 19, 2014 at 8:48 AM UTC

francie-lynch

Byron's Pig Roast ("You're Invited to My Pig Roast")

Byron wants me to invite all my friends on HP to a pig roast. Rest assured, when Byron has a pig roast fun is surely to be expected. Here's his invitation. You're invited to my pig roast. I told him he'd have to do better, that he's talking to a collection of rhymers, wordsmiths, and gesticulating anthropomorphics. He had no idea what the **** I just said, but he did do an edit. Here's his edit. You're Invited to My Pig Roast Your toad on the road Only squats, never stands, Or sits 'til he splits Between the treads of your van. Your mouse in the house, If it isn't found out, Drops pellets in pots, 'Til snap, then it stops. Your bird on the wire Sweetly sings then lets fire; And a cat in a hat Is cute, but that's that. Your horse from the stable Won't be served from your table; And the deer by the brook, Well, too much the Bambi to cook. Yes a bear in the wood Indeed craps where it should; He's best left alone While your meat's on your bone. Then there is the PIG. A ruddy pink porker, Intelligent and clean, An innocuous oinker. It does nothing that's heinous, And yes, it should shame us, As it lies silently smiling With a spit up its **** Please bring your own lawnchair, ***** and women. The pig's on me.

35

Luck Some say a rainbow is lucky, but I am not sure if that’s so Some say the number seven is lucky, but me, well I really don’t know I once met a dog, and his name was “lucky” but he only had him three legs Is that so unlucky? I only have two and ill still be walking for days. Theres lucky charms, and bad lucky black cats And Lucy, she lives down the block Shes really quite pretty, and I might get lucky If with these two legs I could talk You see im quite un lucky, as you well know For I was born without tongue, and the tinyest mouth and I cannot talk with lovely lucky Lucy So here in my lawnchair Ill pout.

0

Sep 22, 2012

Sep 22, 2012 at 12:27 PM UTC

cyrus-james-goodhart

Luck?

Luck Some say a rainbow is lucky, but I am not sure if that’s so Some say the number seven is lucky, but me, well I really don’t know I once met a dog, and his name was “lucky” but he only had him three legs Is that so unlucky? I only have two and ill still be walking for days. Theres lucky charms, and bad lucky black cats And Lucy, she lives down the block Shes really quite pretty, and I might get lucky If with these two legs I could talk You see im quite un lucky, as you well know For I was born without tongue, and the tinyest mouth and I cannot talk with lovely lucky Lucy So here in my lawnchair Ill pout.

13

Are they strictly local? I wonder what, of her inspirations, she’s seeking through the Sun Whatever it is, It is something I walk away again. Hollywood again. He leaps down unto the glossy sheen arms out back straight chin raised No. But I’ve been trying. Or, softly pirouetting Fred Astaire Tuxedo’d tails like bird’s wings hang low on the body Cuz I’ve been trying. In turn, she’s losing the Sun. It rests like a clear bubble Large, between. Amorphous. It is, in as much as It isn’t. Is she done yet? I saunter over. No. Where you from? The phone rests precariously On the metallic lawnchair, filming. I have to move my seat. LOUD is always the giveaway What I’ve just realised is that I have never heard my neighbour laugh. Criticisms anchor, Bewildering. I wonder does she bounce awake, up and into the early morning tap dancing? An off-key bleat pierces before even the coffee beans can be ground down For a long time I look out the window standing in the place of any and all distractions. Pinned to the wall. Can you ever leave Hollywood? But, here I am again! Splat. I mean, really? Since I was 17! No. She’s practicing her lines to the Atmosphere. Thrashing, like so. Suggesting, rather. She, Seated in the other, resorts to Choreography. There she is, Transfixing. Again, another one.

0

Sep 29, 2021

Sep 29, 2021 at 12:31 PM UTC

swiggins

Gestures, By Which, She Hopes To Unfurl

Are they strictly local? I wonder what, of her inspirations, she’s seeking through the Sun Whatever it is, It is something I walk away again. Hollywood again. He leaps down unto the glossy sheen arms out back straight chin raised No. But I’ve been trying. Or, softly pirouetting Fred Astaire Tuxedo’d tails like bird’s wings hang low on the body Cuz I’ve been trying. In turn, she’s losing the Sun. It rests like a clear bubble Large, between. Amorphous. It is, in as much as It isn’t. Is she done yet? I saunter over. No. Where you from? The phone rests precariously On the metallic lawnchair, filming. I have to move my seat. LOUD is always the giveaway What I’ve just realised is that I have never heard my neighbour laugh. Criticisms anchor, Bewildering. I wonder does she bounce awake, up and into the early morning tap dancing? An off-key bleat pierces before even the coffee beans can be ground down For a long time I look out the window standing in the place of any and all distractions. Pinned to the wall. Can you ever leave Hollywood? But, here I am again! Splat. I mean, really? Since I was 17! No. She’s practicing her lines to the Atmosphere. Thrashing, like so. Suggesting, rather. She, Seated in the other, resorts to Choreography. There she is, Transfixing. Again, another one.

63

I'm on a walk with nothing in my hand Moon out, sunglasses on Let's be honest, I'm probably drunk. And my favorite thing to do Intoxicated, Inebriated, Alleviated is watch a film WELL... I've been drinking. The water on my eyelashes Falls through the weaving of the cheap, broken lawnchair holding me up. Pressed hard against my Department Store Jeans. The brand name my mom likes I watch movies about Bob Dylan soaking wet My hair looks unwashed I've been wearing the same ******* watch for three years to the day But I'm not bored of it I've lived in the same ******* town for 18 years and I've never thought more of it I feel the grass growing up, itching my Ankles, Calves, Knees it goes up and under my skin pulling punches as it pleases. But doesn't everyone? The thin layer inside of my Elbow, Arm, Limb goes numb gives in. But doesn't everyone? my Whiskey Sour doesn't Thank god for that. the Bowl before bed doesn't Thank **** for that Otherwise I'd probably feel close to nothing Which probably wouldn't feel so bad

0

Oct 14, 2010

Oct 14, 2010 at 6:10 PM UTC

m-lundy

"I'm Not There" in Levi's

I'm on a walk with nothing in my hand Moon out, sunglasses on Let's be honest, I'm probably drunk. And my favorite thing to do Intoxicated, Inebriated, Alleviated is watch a film WELL... I've been drinking. The water on my eyelashes Falls through the weaving of the cheap, broken lawnchair holding me up. Pressed hard against my Department Store Jeans. The brand name my mom likes I watch movies about Bob Dylan soaking wet My hair looks unwashed I've been wearing the same ******* watch for three years to the day But I'm not bored of it I've lived in the same ******* town for 18 years and I've never thought more of it I feel the grass growing up, itching my Ankles, Calves, Knees it goes up and under my skin pulling punches as it pleases. But doesn't everyone? The thin layer inside of my Elbow, Arm, Limb goes numb gives in. But doesn't everyone? my Whiskey Sour doesn't Thank god for that. the Bowl before bed doesn't Thank **** for that Otherwise I'd probably feel close to nothing Which probably wouldn't feel so bad

45

lets go to a club, pleaded dan. no thanks, i resisted. not my thing. but please, it'll be a good time, he insisted and anyway you're lonely, i know. no im not, i told him, but i was, so, while my pal talked up a pretty gal, i waited for him to finish, sipping a bit at my drink and soon enough, i'm loaded. my self esteem's eroded within the first few minutes and by the end, when their flirting's spent, is entirely diminished. no luck? he came back and asked, as though he ******* cared - i felt the world folding in on itself like an hunchback, or a lawnchair. i rose, to punch him in the nose. hey, what the **** he said, but he didn't even stumble. then he bashed my head against the wall and watched me crumble to the floor, no more, no more, no more "but what the **** man," he said, again I'm lonely, i said, i'm lonely, dan i'm lonely and in need. he pulls me up by my shirt: "no, you're just fat and full of alcohol and greed." at first I was hurt for a long time, for many years, i disappeared into myself because i knew that he was right. and when i go one day, swiftly into the light i **** a ****** up in heaven (as it turns out there aren't 72 there are 77.)

0

Dec 9, 2018

Dec 9, 2018 at 12:37 AM UTC

croob

why i stopped clubbing (and talking to dan)

lets go to a club, pleaded dan. no thanks, i resisted. not my thing. but please, it'll be a good time, he insisted and anyway you're lonely, i know. no im not, i told him, but i was, so, while my pal talked up a pretty gal, i waited for him to finish, sipping a bit at my drink and soon enough, i'm loaded. my self esteem's eroded within the first few minutes and by the end, when their flirting's spent, is entirely diminished. no luck? he came back and asked, as though he ******* cared - i felt the world folding in on itself like an hunchback, or a lawnchair. i rose, to punch him in the nose. hey, what the **** he said, but he didn't even stumble. then he bashed my head against the wall and watched me crumble to the floor, no more, no more, no more "but what the **** man," he said, again I'm lonely, i said, i'm lonely, dan i'm lonely and in need. he pulls me up by my shirt: "no, you're just fat and full of alcohol and greed." at first I was hurt for a long time, for many years, i disappeared into myself because i knew that he was right. and when i go one day, swiftly into the light i **** a ****** up in heaven (as it turns out there aren't 72 there are 77.)

36

In the shopping center I feel like an exile. As I write this, sitting on a patio furniture display, I realize I am the only one without a cart full of cardboard and artless plastic. A seasoned couple quarrels in the next aisle over which shower curtain to go home with as if it really matters at all. Children yearn for the colorful things, women the shiny, men the dangerous. I want to tell them that if they want color, brilliance, and danger, they should listen to Elvis Presley or read Tom Robbins. Anyway, I buy the lawnchair I've been sitting on and walk out the door.

0

Jun 30, 2018

Jun 30, 2018 at 12:41 PM UTC

Tyler_Matthew

Like an Exile

In the shopping center I feel like an exile. As I write this, sitting on a patio furniture display, I realize I am the only one without a cart full of cardboard and artless plastic. A seasoned couple quarrels in the next aisle over which shower curtain to go home with as if it really matters at all. Children yearn for the colorful things, women the shiny, men the dangerous. I want to tell them that if they want color, brilliance, and danger, they should listen to Elvis Presley or read Tom Robbins. Anyway, I buy the lawnchair I've been sitting on and walk out the door.

19