Another challenge on our message board. If you would like to participate, come to the board. I post a challenge every weekend and you'll find the link HERE.
I put a list of things, or items, that must appear in the poem. Each item must have its own verse and the poem must have a theme. This week only five of the six words or items had to be used.
Participants don't see a picture until the page is published.
This was the list for this past weekend (9-8-07)
The poems are very imaginative and quite different from each other. I thought the results were very good and if you like what you read, let the poet know. They love feedback.
It was about 10:00 p.m. and the light on the lamp post
had been on for a couple of hours.
The light was beautiful because it was surrounded by a bed of red and white flowers.
I looked out the window when I head this caterwauling from a cat at the top of the post.
He acted as if he had seen a ghost.
He was the rebel of the neighborhood and not afraid of man or beast.
He usually ate from the garbage dumpster and had quite a feast.
At the mailbox, I noticed someone was lurking around out on the street.
I saw a Sheriff's car pass by out on his beat.
The police car stopped, and the deputy got out.
This lurking stranger had a chip on his shoulder and was a bit stout.
The deputy started asking why he was hanging around the mailbox and was he supposed to be there.
The uninvited visitor was told to move on, but he answered the deputy with "Who said?", and gave him a blank stare.
Behind his back he was holding a pipe bomb, which he intended to put in with some mail.
The deputy promptly handcuffed him, and hauled him off to jail.
© By Phyllis Ann (Starbird55@msn.com)
He danced with the lamp post,
A perfect partner for him.
With champagne, made a toast..
"May your light never dim!"
Full of beer, a load was he hauling.
He hummed, he loudly sang,
Sounded more like caterwauling.
On that pole he did hang.
Jim was a rebel when he was young.
Rode through the town on his old Harley.
Bellowed his song with only one lung.
He was fueled with malt, hops and barley.
Eyes were all blurred, couldn't see straight
He staggered right up to the mailbox.
"Hey Lil' darlin', Could I have a date?
'Cause you are a charming young fox!"
It didn't answer, and away he did slip.
He didn't see his gravity shift.
When he landed his tooth got a chip,
And into deep sleep he did drift.
Snoring away, on someone's lawn.
They thought that he was dead.
But in the morning, just after dawn,
He sat up and yelled,,"Who said?"
© By SWAMPETTA (SWAMPETTA@aol.com)
He went to the mailbox today
Sending a check for to pay
A bill which had come in the mail
He must pay it without fail
He heard caterwauling from next door
A terrible sound he had heard before
Sharon was singing in the bath
The sound caused him to feel great wrath
He decided it was time to rebel
Went next door to yell and yell
"Shut up Sharon that sounds bad"
His insults made her feel real sad
"Who said that" she called out
"Don't stand under the window to shout"
"It's me, your neighbor Chip
Please be quiet, close your lip"
"You and that lamp post can't shut me
I can sing in my bath yes siree"
He tapped on Sharon's window some more
Sharon got angry and very sore
"You better get away from here"
"Why should I leave neighbor Dear"
"I'll come out there soapy and nude
That will scare you neighbor dude"
© By Sharon (Sunyskys1943@aol.com)
Billy Bailey was on his way home,
When to the corner he got.
He held on to the lamp post,
But bounced off in the wrong direction.
As he neared the end of the block,
He heard caterwauling from the last house,
Thinking it was his wife so mad,
He sobered up quite fast.
Do not rebel my dear bride,
Oh please stand by my side,
Forgive me and I
Will clean all of the commodes.
The reply was not that familiar,
But she had a big chip on her shoulder,
As she screamed at him,
Well get it done and he thought he was home again.
As into the house he went,
Things were changed around quite a bit.
Who said that a man asked,
Bill Bailey fainted with fright.
The next morning he woke up in jail,
He wife would not post bail.
So now here Bill Bailey sits,
But at least he did not have to clean up the sh . . .!
© By Tom (tomWYO@aol.com)
Busy streets and sizzling August heat,
Hot concrete, subway rumblings, spoiled meat.
Chip stuck his head out, peered down the alley,
It was midnight, perfect time for a cat rally.
Vacant buildings, shadows, a tall wooden fence,
Dumpsters, garbage cans, newspaper tents,
The rebel, Chip, crept steathily through the dark,
Toward Claw Street, and Kensington Park.
Suddenly, a dark clad figure jumped out,
"Stop! Thief!" a shop owner began to shout.
Chip hissed, leaped, and landed on the back,
Of the dark clad figure clasping a money sack.
The man, while running, fought Chip's attack,
Yanking fur, pulling ears, giving Chip a whack,
Chip clawed, bit, snarled and hissed,
The man, yelping, punched the air with his fist.
Careening, the man slammed head-first into a mailbox,
Which scared him so bad he headed for the docks.
He lost the sack, shook the cat, scattered cans,
He ran...and ran...and ran...and ran.....
Poor Chip, he went limping down the street,
Patches of fur dangling, flesh like raw meat,
He heard the caterwauling way before he got there,
But no longer was he in the mood for a cat rally affair.
At the lamp post, he stopped for a rest,
And that's when he heard, "Chip, Chip, he's the best.
He stopped a robber, the robber split."
"Who said?" They laughed. "You were seen by TomCat Schmitt".
© By Marilyn (LaraOct7@aol.com)
Passing of Time
Shopping ( 10 Authors )
The Little Red Schoolhouse ( 5 Authors )
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Thanks to Connie (CSThomas@aol.com) for tubing the lamppost.