Join the Neopoet online poetry workshop and community to improve as a writer, meet fellow poets, and showcase your work. Sign up, submit your poetry, and get started.

Editing - polished draft

Right now, I feel that a decision we should make,
Which only means that distance one should keep,
Lest there be cause for us to stay awake
And deprive us of our innocent sleep.
There shan’t be games of which you seem so fond;
That playing “footsy” ‘neath the table game
Which may result in an erotic bond,
But lead to guilt and even utter shame.
Be gone you toe, so sensuously unclad,
My own big toes are spoken for, I think.
But, well--I think--why not? This can’t be bad--
Then, I detect my own wife’s amused wink.

That's Heaven for Me

You imagine you are running up on a cliff.
So green and nice.
No one else,
No worries.
Just sky, maybe a few mountains,
And mist in the distance you can get lost in.
No troubles can reach you.

You want to stay in that place as long as you can.
That’s heaven for me.

All you can see is the world doing its thing
right in front of you
You can just sit there and watch

The clouds float,
It’s like a journey to Neverland,
That’s my peace.

The New Rugged Cross

Over sad Palestine flies a blue and white star,
the symbol of suffering and pain:
a people enslaved by Zionist greed
where thousands of children lie slain.

So let's cherish poor Palestine's hopes
and the vile Star of David tear down;
carpeted on the cruel rugged cross
above bloodsoaked sacrosanct ground.

A Sonnet to my ingrown Toenail

Since I’ve been blest with such dear family,
A loving spouse who ceaselessly attends
To me with food and drink, most willingly,
I burn life’s candle fully at both ends.
But once, I did not live so free of care;
There was my toe that had an ingrown nail;
No matter what, it worsened by the year,
And then, when trimmed, it grew back without fail.
Podiatrists worked on that horrid thing,
But it defied their snips, kept creeping back
To do its nasty nagging with more zing;
My doctor tried more useless snicker-snack.

Pandora's Box

One day fat old Mr Knox
Sunbathed on some Grecian rocks;
Pandora swam by, nude,
Which was rather rude:
So he photographed her box.

Bignosed Andrew

St Andrew woke up one fine morn
He was feeling at a loss
He looked down and to his dismay
Found he'd been hung up on a cross.

He was really quite annoyed
As it was hurting lots and lots
"I'll have revenge, oy vay" said he
"I'll go and patronise the Scots."

So Andy, a Jewish fisher lad,
Became a famous Celtic saint
But always remember just one thing:
A real life Scot he ain't.
.

Trotsky - A Limerick

There was once a commie called Trotsky
Who thought about things quite a lotsky
One day he felt sick
As a sharpish ice-pick
Sliced a new hole in his botsky.

My Frickin' Fibromyalgia

I have no new symptoms to look up on the internet,
My feet for now are gout and gangrene free.
I've not yet broken into a cold sweat,
Still it's only a quarter past three!
I don't feel that I'm very depressed,
On a level or particularly high,
Nor do I feel like I'm at any unrest,
Watching my moods, mutate, mix and multiply!
I take my multi vits and supplements,
Folic Acid, Iron and vitamin E.
I can't keep up with every circumstance,
Nor how many times I'm having to pee!.

My Birth and Departure

A miracle marked the day of my birth.
I was told a stork delivered me, and
my mother had suffered severe beak
strikes about the upper thighs, deep enough
to draw blood and other liquids. Oh—
the dirty bird also dropped the placenta
which, in later years, harassed me
in form of hostile poetry critics.

Four years later, I found myself living
in the shadow of my younger brother;
he’d sprung from a watermelon seed.
The event rivaled that of the immaculate
conception and virgin birth . . . .

Just Another Day In Auschwitz

Hans opened the grating as usual
Dropped the Zyklon B pellets
One by one just as the sergeant said
And closed the aperture
He couldn't bear the tumult
He knew would follow
It was the screams of the little ones
He found the most unsettling
But at least they ended first.
However, one thing was for sure
It beat the Hell out of dying a hero's death
On the frozen Russian front.
And there was a silver lining too:
Christmas was coming and with it extra rations.
Twenty long minutes elapsed

Pages

Subscribe to RSS - Editing - polished draft
(c) Neopoet.com. No copyright is claimed by Neopoet to original member content.