"pounder" poems
Your smile.
Smile.
I think to myself.
Please just smile.
Something about your smile.
your sweet, simple, **** smile.
It razzles my brain.
How can one person go on living
without seeing your smile?
Your smile,
your lively, loving, lush smile.
I can only go on for just a short while
without seeing that wonderful smile.
Something about it flutters my heart.
and thats just the start.
Its like you have a secret,
a secret only you know,
a secret worth smiling about,
a secret that puts a twinkle in your eye.
A secret that makes me smile,
how do you do that?
I want to ask, I really do...
How can you just smile
and make me think of sunshine
and beaches and everything sweet?
How can a smile dig down that deep?
Everyone can smile, everyone does.
I see a hundred smiles a day.
Your smile,
your moving, meaningful, mezmerizing smile.
What is it that makes your smile so sincere?
I thought I might have to pounder this thought for a while.
but then i just thought, Its becuase its your smile.
Dec 24, 2012
Dec 24, 2012 at 6:09 PM UTC
Bustopher Jones is not skin and bones—
In fact, he’s remarkably fat.
He doesn’t haunt pubs—he has eight or nine clubs,
For he’s the St. James’s Street Cat!
He’s the Cat we all greet as he walks down the street
In his coat of fastidious black:
No commonplace mousers have such well-cut trousers
Or such an impreccable back.
In the whole of St. James’s the smartest of names is
The name of this Brummell of Cats;
And we’re all of us proud to be nodded or bowed to
By Bustopher Jones in white spats!
His visits are occasional to the Senior Educational
And it is against the rules
For any one Cat to belong both to that
And the Joint Superior Schools.
For a similar reason, when game is in season
He is found, not at Fox’s, but Blimpy’s;
He is frequently seen at the gay Stage and Screen
Which is famous for winkles and shrimps.
In the season of venison he gives his ben’son
To the Pothunter’s succulent bones;
And just before noon’s not a moment too soon
To drop in for a drink at the Drones.
When he’s seen in a hurry there’s probably curry
At the Siamese—or at the Glutton;
If he looks full of gloom then he’s lunched at the Tomb
On cabbage, rice pudding and mutton.
So, much in this way, passes Bustopher’s day-
At one club or another he’s found.
It can be no surprise that under our eyes
He has grown unmistakably round.
He’s a twenty-five pounder, or I am a bounder,
And he’s putting on weight every day:
But he’s so well preserved because he’s observed
All his life a routine, so he’ll say.
Or, to put it in rhyme: “I shall last out my time”
Is the word of this stoutest of Cats.
It must and it shall be Spring in Pall Mall
While Bustopher Jones wears white spats!
3.3k
BTZZZZZZZZ
“…open wide! The all-new Angus third-pounder…”
BTZZZZZZZZ
“…illiteracy: an incurable disease or education malpractice…”
BTZZZZZZZZ
“…childhood obesity is at an all-time high…”
BTZZZZZZZZ
“…suicide bomber, 10 people dead…”
BTZZZZZZZZ
“…teachers on strike again…”
BTZZZZZZZZ
“…Michael Jackson…”
BTZZZZZZZZ
“…another Amber Alert has been issued…”
BTZZZZZZZZ
“…number of Americans going hungry increases…”
BTZZZZZZZZ
“…ninety-six billion pounds of food go to waste each year…”
BTZZZZZZZZ
“…Nicole Kidman loves her new *****
BTZZZZZZZZ
“…another soldier was killed yesterday in a firefight…”
BTZZZZZZZZ
“...you can do to protect against H1N1…”
BTZZZZZZZZ
“…live the rainbow, taste the rainbow…”
BTZZZZZZZZ
“…the King of Pop…”
BTZZZZZZZZ
“…confirmed: the remains belonged to 6 year old…”
BTZZZZZZZZ
“…boy refuses to pledge allegiance unless gays and lesbians have equal rights...”
BTZZZZZZZZ
“…scientist reveals her secret life as a **********
BTZZZZZZZZ
“…police are waiting on a positive ID on the girl’s body...”
BTZZZZZZZZ
“…Michael Jackson...”
BTZZZZZZZZ
“…actor who played Santa Claus jailed for having *** with boys…”
BTZZZZZZZZ
“…Iran is restarting their nuclear facility…”
BTZZZZZZZZ
“…armed teen jumped the pizza delivery man…”
BTZZZZZZZZ
“…woman who has three hundred ******* a day finally meets her dream man…”
BTZZZZZZZZ
“…why we love Taylor Swift…”
BTZZZZZZZZ
“fifteen year old son, shot by his father, has died tonight…”
BTZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ [click]
Jan 3, 2010
Jan 3, 2010 at 8:25 PM UTC
We read “Captain Hook’s collection of psalms,
And other songs to sing along to.”
Nothing better to do off hand,
But revel in our own arrogance.
And, we notched holes in leather straps,
To expand at the waste.
Drive through diets replacing lessons-
Of keeping elbows off the table.
Of speaking only when spoken to.
Twenty-one years plus a little change.
And, daddy says-
Everything I taught you is replaceable.
And, daddy says-
Mistake is a just a word.
Hasn’t got it figured out either,
At least he admits it,
Choking down another cigarette,
Says: here’s to now.
And, don’t break your back if you don’t have to.
Technology affords avenues
Different rivers to float experience
Overalls and baseball caps
And the tree house that broke my tibia.
Talked through tin cans in this age,
Of golden innocence.
Now I’m Facebooking and twitting or twittering
Or… who the **** cares?
No one I care about.
Rivers given way to raw sewage.
And, even dogs eat their own ****
This cat called my computer a *********** box-
If the shoe fits,
Clichés get the hits.
Search: Blonde **** Big *******
5 million 38 hundred and 2 results.
Neon Bibles erupt in the sky.
Today I am a believer in the quarter pounder with cheese
Tomorrow in gasoline for 2.85
Midas made gold
Now he wants to change my oil.
They call that economics
Or advertising.
And, suddenly my sneakers aren’t good enough
Voice on the other end reassures-
My ideas are manic.
Paint a scene of terror.
Laying waste to iron giants-
Tearing down systems in place to restrict
Setting fire to everything-
Rack it up to fulfilling.
Rack it up to rebuilding.
Dismal haze, red glow to ash filled sky,
That makes mom clutch the good book-
Saying its time to go home.
How she knows her redeemer lives.
Clarity reigns supreme
And, daddy says-
Son, you’ve been watching too much TV.
And daddy says-
You catch more with honey by rule.
Feb 7, 2013
Feb 7, 2013 at 1:37 PM UTC
Oh beautiful rosy shade tree
Do you touch the spirit of me?
Which way will you fall?
I will wait and cogitate for you,
My love, just for me too
A family of giants
That we are;
A body hunched over
With precious shards;
To know so simply the touch
As I sleep alone
In my broken world;
The molasses air
Slowly shroud in mists
Across the straits
To hear our echoes cry,
As I sit beneath the tree branch and ponder
About you, just you;
Sitting there waiting and looking for
Hopefully the spirit heals with time
And tide
Oh gentle waters
Bring my heart home to you.
And sitting beneath a branch
As I sit and pounder
And wonder
About the shores with my favored eye,
And your kiss of past times;
As my mysteries past stir
And arise to thee my love.
Oh sweet spirit
Spirit of mine
Keep me safe for thee
As I sit beneath the branch and ponder
And wonder
About my love for you and me;
So my darling hold me close
Let me feel your love to me
Touch my hair so gently
Tell me of your lasting love
So wrap your limbs around my form
Tell me sweet things
Before I hear the news
Of the goodbye of long ago;
As I sit and ponder
As I sit and wonder
As I sit and dream of the love of you.
Debbie Brooks 2014
Oct 20, 2014
Oct 20, 2014 at 6:58 PM UTC
Tears taste like
Pabst blue ribbon
Sat out overnight
Sixteen ounce pounder
Cigarette **** roughly
Stuffed through that
Small can opening
To sip from
In the morning
Another long night
Spent mostly crying
Wake up thirsty
Long drawn drink
Pulling black bits
Of wet tabbaco
From my teeth
Only your tears
Ever tasted like
Cigarette soaked beer
May 23, 2021
May 23, 2021 at 2:35 AM UTC
Joesph L. Clark then decided to stand up, because
The gravel was hurting his knee.
"Well, why not?" He pondered,
Aloud. That was a mistake.
"Because Joe,
You can't make a living off of
Poetry and whiskey."
Her voice was sharp
Like knives, as strong as
A meat pounder.
Joe short of liked that,
Though.
"And besides, there are other men
Here in this town that can hold my
Hand tighter than you ever will."
To that, Mr.Clark's jaw tightened,
His hands around themselves did so as well,
And with a tilt of his head he muttered
These words out of his bearded face:
"I'm no option baby,
I'm all or nothing."
And walked away knowing that
At least he had the dignitiy to be
A man at times.
Ms. Eleanor P. Carney's
T-strap heels struggled against
The grain of the dirt road, as she ran after him.
Tight hand holding made her palms sweaty, anyways.
Feb 11, 2013
Feb 11, 2013 at 11:21 PM UTC
It ***** with me
People not ******* with me
I ask strangers for friendship
They tell me to get ******
My friends and I
Hop in the car
We will share a night
We will have different ideas about
We go to the gas station
They accidentally buy the wrong cigarettes
They got lites
I wanted 100s
The fumes made a spark a bad idea anyway
We go to get fast food
I accidentally buy the wrong food
I got a quarter pounder
They wanted a double quarter pounder
Their fumes would've filled up my car anyway
Sitting in the parking lot
I'm not satisfied with this spot
But I stay here
Because of all the other cars already parked
Dictating where I must go
And then remain
In idle
Fuming
They're finished eating
As I'm finished breathing
We go to the movies
Where the art transports me into a world of relation
But the lights bring me back
To a room where all the seats had been taken
So I had to sit in the front
And the vulnerable emotions that felt so important
I seek to hide from the rest of the patrons
Who'll laugh at me for feeling something
As the fumes of film escape my nose
We go to my house
To smoke some ***
It's another parking lot
But I prefer comfort to anxiety
When the fumes obstruct my vision of the people around me
Who are trashing my home
The demolition team becomes company
They'll always be here
No matter what
The wrecking ball changes
Machinery always being improved
Enthusiasm always being renewed
New personnel I can always recruit
Yet nothing ever changes
Once I recovered myself
Once I discovered myself
I drove back to my friend's house
Thinking we'd catch up on lost time
Or maybe he'd beat the **** out of me
I remember wondering how it had come to that
I remember wondering if I deserved it
I remember wondering if anyone could save me
From a life of no mortal danger
Only the danger of mortality
And the idea of being here on Earth throughout
Where people don't **** with me
Because the people I ****
Look too ******* similar to me
Yet when I ask strangers for friendship
They tell me to get ******
Dec 5, 2017
Dec 5, 2017 at 6:51 AM UTC
As this snow withers bit by bit
I pounder life and sit
Staring out this frozen window
Wondering if i could have been that low
Low enough to show the hurt that should have been left hidden
I should have left the view of myself to others golden
Now i have all this dirt on my name
And its myself i blame
Jan 21, 2012
Jan 21, 2012 at 10:52 PM UTC
What can I say
She's full of beauty
And also intelligent
Averaging a 4.0 every semester
So nice to everyone
Even though these guys you've dated
All did you wrong.
Every time we talk I get nervous
Every time i see you're icon
On my iPhone
I thank god
For giving you time to reply to
My iMessage
You told me you're life plan
And how you would enjoy a family
And I said don't worry
All these hopes and dreams
Will be turned into reality
And right after that i changed the subject so you wouldn't get suspicious.
To nervous to ever take it pass being friends
In my mind I wonder and pounder
How life with you will be
But every time I work up a nerve to ask you will you be mine
Some other guy
Comes into the frame
So I sit back
And keep picturing telling me you love me and how our life together will be one dream come true
One day I will have enough courage to tell you
Can I tell you how much
I wanna be with you.
Dec 27, 2012
Dec 27, 2012 at 1:34 AM UTC
The mariachi band
Is playing dizzyingly
Next to our table
The guitarists
Hair wetly slicked
Back
"We live off of
Tips sir,
Anything
Will help.
Now, something
Romantic for
Your woman"
When they are
Finished their frantic
Strumming
I had him a
Folded 5
They dash off
To the next
Table
I slug a pounder
The beer inside is
Warm and the water
That runs through
The city is the
Same color as the
Water in Disney
World
Dyed that sickly
Turquoise grey
Tour boats cut
Small waves that
Lap the sidewalks
And the fat tourists
Feed tortilla chips to
Swarming clouds
Of small brown
Birds
Another warm
Swallow of beer
And the sunglasses
Perched in my
Greasy hair
Who needs a
******* job
Give me warm
Beer and sickly
Fake water and
A table with her
Oct 26, 2016
Oct 26, 2016 at 6:21 PM UTC
They say if you breath slower time it's self slows down
convincing myself if I had more time I won't just ponder around
Problems may soke down on as like intoxicated air
And yet the solutions are harder to find then they appear
They make it seem easy to find like plucking ripe apple off a tree
But now a days that's harder to find than a big Mac and a large sweet tea
I just want to do the right thing even if it's harder to choose
I don't want to look back and pounder on the misfortunes that I didn't set aloof
As I spent my time to terrible use looking back at the mistake I happened to choose
I only get to think about the future instead of living it now, convincing myself I have more time some how
I contadict myself and I seem to do it a lot and about this time I can slowly see my brain start to rot
Mar 24, 2015
Mar 24, 2015 at 4:31 PM UTC
Shimano reel filled with 14 pound trilene.
St. Croix rod, medium heavy, backbone is mean.
bullet weight slid on the line after run through guides.
teflon coated truturn hook tied on with palomar, ready for the ride.
watermelon lizard on and ready to cast.
flick of the wrist and the lure flies far and fast
Lands on the bank, two inches from the water
crawl it down the side of an old log, hollow.
pulse the rod tip up and down while lifting.
let the lure drop back down, trolling motor keeps us from driftng.
reel up the slack do it again all the way to the boat.
do it again, like dad taught me rote.
We troll on down the bank looking for a likely place
the boat dock up ahead is usually an ace
ease on up, perfect flip under and all the way back
let sink and sit, slowly reel up slack
Bump, then thump, then **** and run
snap the rod tip way up high and fish on.
rod tip down, fish running under dock
drag schreeching, pull back lines not moving just like its locked
Fish jumps on other side, has me wrapped around a piling.
change angles give it a pop, nothing, know the metal is filing
down the line. Please don't break, pop it once again.
the line begins to move and slide, pulled by power of fin.
The fights back on, in open water now
which, fish or angler will be made to cow.
fish goes deep, uh oh nothing but slack.
reel fast now, got to get her back.
fish running right at boat, trying a different tact.
Not the right one, I catch back up and **** once more
the she is, grab the net, worn out from the chore.
off the hook and on the scale, in the live well dunk her.
pull out the phone, TPWD calling share a lunker.
15 pounder in the well headed to the marina
parks and wildlife said that's where to meet her.
off to the Texas fisheries center in Athens to spawn.
back at home few days later relaxing on my lawn.
Package arrives fiberglass replica of my fish
awaiting word, if I can live release her, is my wish.
wish granted a few days later, back out in the lake
she tail walks and swims off while cutting a graceful wake.
Sep 16, 2016
Sep 16, 2016 at 10:02 AM UTC
a thought comes to mind
I wonder and pounder it.
words come up, then form sentences
the sentences form poems.
some with rhyming patterns
others are made without consciousness.
in order to write
I need thoughts.
Jun 30, 2014
Jun 30, 2014 at 8:18 AM UTC
*Drowning in fear
The weak hunger for power
Burdened by their pain and suffering
Lost in a time with no remorse
We live as one
Hate and regression filling our lives
We find ourselves lost in turmoil
Begging to be saved in silence.
Urning for the sweet flavor
Of a rich life untold
A life with love
Passion and grace
Finding oneself sullen
In bitter defeat
Our stolen voices
Silenced by fear
Fear of others
Fear of pain
Fear of sorrow and heartache
We hid ourselves where no one can find us
Helpless we pounder the unknown
Urning for the courage to face our fears
Wishing for a miracle
To unchain us from our binds
Soul in agony and indigenous suffering
Long since lived we face these threats
Broken inside we struggle for freedom
Lost forever in a bitter cold world of hate
Broken the chains fall
Grace filling the air
We gaze upon the sight
And realize we've always been the hero
Always saved ourselves from utter damnation
Lost and confused no longer
Free from the pain and torture
We gaze at the marvel
Of a world born anew
Knowing the pain of the past
Protecting our future from damnation
Sensing the dangers from far beyond
We ready ourselves for the battle once again*
Dec 11, 2016
Dec 11, 2016 at 4:57 AM UTC
We used to tell our
Beloved babies
Not to cry,
It will be alright.
It won't always be alright,
why do we tell them this so young?
What ever happened to,
"Don't tell what is not always true"?
And now, they yell and question
Us and our actions.
We make one little mistake
And they pounder us that
It's "Not OK".
What ever will happen to
The little children being
shouted at when they are
Told it's "Not OK".
They will be confused and
Upset since they were told
One thing, but the next,
It's wrong.
It's all wrong.
May 20, 2014
May 20, 2014 at 11:34 AM UTC
Have you had your daily bread this morning?
the spiritual bread of truth?
not the fast food that exists
or the foolishness of youth.
Something stronger, something more,
that feeds the inner soul
that satisfies the heart
that you cannot control.
Truth that rights all wrongs
truth that fills and heals
not your quarter-pounder
not your Happy Meals.
Nourishment from God's great "lunch"
fulfillment from the Word
hunger that's swept away
by the truth that's heard.
He is the Bread of Life
the ever living fountain
by which you overcome
every single mountain.
May 18, 2018
May 18, 2018 at 2:03 PM UTC
Peering deep inside your mind
Learning the frequency of time
Showing you the reality of this manifestational climb
A black hole
A galaxy filled with infinite disclose
Designed to make you stand on your toes.
Create a reality inside your soul
Need it to happen
Want it to happen
Never look back until all is disclosed.
The fabrication of reality awaits your call
Create it from the inner depths of your consciousness
Reminding yourself that all before you
Is a perception of existence,
Actuality –
A simple act of gravity.
Ask it
Will it
Become the master of your thoughts.
The universe answers back
And makes it, so you’ve fought.
Will you create the reality you want?
Or pounder on the questionable state of love?
I’ve given you the answers to this struggle that is not
Talk to the universe
Take all it’s got.
Nov 9, 2018
Nov 9, 2018 at 7:21 AM UTC
Yes,
I am dead
I have walked the streets of life
before there were even roads
I twisted my ankle
on the cobble stone
I have moved past the past so many times
that I don't even know
I have roamed the metropolis's made by man
and have found them all below a stones throw
I've met the faces of the characters that dreams wove
just to awaken to pounder what has happened to whom I was to be betrothed
I've seen the tapestry become unwound
spooled in a mound upon the earthen ground
I spoke so sweetly
I was not heard
I yelled so loud
I was feared
I thought so quietly
I was Love
I thought of myself
I was abound for above
alas,
the wise in the weak can never lesson
there is not a sign in life
that left me guessing?
Jun 8, 2019
Jun 8, 2019 at 12:57 AM UTC
looks like it’s time for new scrubs
i ripped out my last crotch
picking up a 400 pounder
(off the floor, not in a bar)
Oct 19, 2018
Oct 19, 2018 at 5:31 AM UTC
A taste of what can be
Is a ******* trick
You can be the answer to all my troubles
You can be the magic to all this ruffle
A taste was so good that my mind continued the journey
On its own
Filling the blanks
With what I want it to be
But a taste of what can be is a trick
It leaves a heavy feeling so thick
It makes your soul ache and you think
Think of everything
That can be
Wish you were strong enough to handle me
Wish you were here tonight
Or atleast I wish we would fight
But leaving me with my mind
As I wonder
And pounder
Is torture
And a taste of what can be is a trick
And I dont know if I can handle it
May 10, 2018
May 10, 2018 at 3:38 PM UTC
I’m not supposed to want you;
I’m not supposed to care,
And yet I spend my time dreaming of all that we could share.
Im not supposed to think about you or wonder where you have been,
But no matter how I fight it,
Thoughts of you sneak in.
I’m not supposed to pounder where you are each night,
But yet you creep into my vision when the stars shine bright.
I’m not supposed to yearn so,
Always wishing you were here.
But I hunger for your kisses,
An I long to draw you near.
I’m not supposed to imagine where you are or what you do.
I know I shouldn’t cater to a single thought of you.
I’m not supposed to need you.
I know these things.
I do.
But yet I can’t help myself,
because I fell in love with you.
Apr 23, 2019
Apr 23, 2019 at 2:26 AM UTC