My Pesky Pecker
Each morning I'm awakened
by my annoying little friend.
As long as he has wood
he will be at it once again.
'Woody' has been with me now
for days beyond recall.
A Persistent little Pecker,
the little bugger gives his all.
For a month now he's been tapping
on the tree outside my den.
On weekends its annoying
cause I like to sleep till Ten.
I so wish someone would eat him,
perhaps the neighbor's cat,
and end his constant tapping
by putting paid to that.
poem by John F. McCullagh
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Related quotes
Pepsi (a poem written to my dog)
You furry little brat
how annoying you are
howl and bark
lick you private part
annoying and disgusting
and always in the way
Oh how I hate you
but love you anyway
poem by Camilla Fodgaard
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Down All The Days
Christy brown a clown around town
Now hes a man of renown from dingle to down
I type with me toes
Suck stout through me nose
And where its gonna end
God only knows
Down all the days
The tap-tap-tapping
Of the typewriter pays
The gentle rattling
Of the drays
Down all the days
I have often had to depend upon
The kindness of strangers
But Ive never been asked
And I never replied
If I supported glasgow rangers
Down all the days
The tap-tap-tapping
Of the typewriter pays
The gentle rattling
Of the drays
Down all the days
song performed by by Pogues
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Musical Feet
My shuffling feet, shuffle forward,
Tapping out a rhythm of a beat.
Taking time to get it right.
Hand tapping thigh,
The pace not a race.
Body vibrates, booming Bass,
Hairs prickle the neck,
Touches roots of the soul.
© 2012
poem by Nick Strong
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Waking Up
In dark I perceive soundless steps
shifting restlessly
rustling of clothes.
gentle tapping on the window
a shadow floats.
I don’t know if I was moving myself
trampling sleep.
Persistent insomnia sometimes creates
strange images.
Heart will toss the words in silence
and I will lit the blue flame in stillness.
That skimpy memory of a half-burned
corpse in a smoked room
haunts me. I carry the imprint of
violence in nerves, throbbing.
A riot of bright color in bougainvillaea
will wake me up in the morning.
poem by Satish Verma
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Born Annoying
I open my mouth to talk about me
Ill follow you around
Ill talk about me
Boring stories, I talk about me
I never understand
Nobody wants to hear it
Born annoying
Another slow numb
Another saying
Deaf-mute dancing
I bore some lady
Let me tell you
Let me talk some
About my girl about complexion
Born annoying
song performed by by Helmet
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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First 4 Stanzas of MY VERSION of 'The Raven' by E. A. Poe
Once upon a bright spring morning, while I pondered about the heat,
Over many a splendid and soothing volume of forgotten sound,
While I nodded, nearly speechless, suddenly there came a knocking.
As of someone gently tapping, tapping at my house all around.
' 'Tis some visitor, ' I whispered, 'tapping at my house all around-
Only this, 'twas all I found.'
Ah, distinctly I remember it was in the sparkling April,
And each separate blooming flower circled the room round.
Eagerly, I wished for more- I had to try to find
A dog of some sort that could hunt- maybe something like a hound-
For the rare and radiant maiden so she could have a hound-
Nothing else that I had found.
And the vibrant, vibrating uncertain rustling of each blue curtain
Thrilled me-filled me with fantastic elation never felt before;
So that now, to still the fast beats of my heart, I stood saying
' 'Tis some visitor trying to come in at my door weighing a pound-
Some late visitor trying to come on at my door weighing a pound-
This it is, it was all I found.'
Presently my soul grew in strength; hesitating for a short time,
'Sir, ' said I, 'or Madam, truly you have great reason for being profound;
But the fact that you are here, and so gently you came knocking
And so faintly did I hear you, tapping at my house all around.
That I knew you would be here' - here I opened the door weighing a pound-
An angel there, with beautiful seraph sound.
poem by Rebecca Ryan
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Decided to Find the Core
When I awakened my last time from deep denial,
I decided to clear my eyes of wants.
And focused on just my needs.
I began to eliminate excess.
I rid my life of annoying pests and agitation.
I decided to find the core of my happiness.
Obstacles became more determined,
Not to see me succeed.
My path became blocked with foolishness.
Until...
I began to see things for what they were.
Even though they tormented me to see them differently.
When I awakened my last time from deep denial,
I decided to clear my eyes of wants.
And focused on just my needs.
Today...
Everything I'm wanting has become a daily desire.
And I thank the Almighty with excitement every morning.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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U Say...... (under Consturicon)
you say i am...
crazy
stupid
retared
annoying
imutore
u say were not ment to be well i dont care u say if i get a a life i will be with u well i say hell no get ur own llife loserz cauz i am not like other gurlz that dream about boyz that are
crazy
stupid
retarted
annoying
imutore
what do i look like to u
a piece of paper that u can mess up
or a doll that u can breack
or a person that u can hert
well hell nooooooooooooooo
poem by HeArShEy De La Rosa
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Squeaky Wheels
The deeds and tricks of the wicked,
Will come to an end.
The wounds of those bruised,
Begin to heal and mend.
The days of hearing squeaky wheels,
Will be greased to cease annoying squeals.
And all of the noise that has been generated,
With a lulling of the ones now awakening from sleep.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Our Street
In our street, the main street
Running thro' the town,
You see a lot of busy folk
Going up and down:
Bag men and basket men,
Men with loads of hay,
Buying things and selling things
And carting things away.
The butcher is a funny man,
He calls me Dandy Dick;
The baker is a cross man,
I think he's often sick;
The fruiterer's a nice man,
He gives me apples, too;
The grocer says, "Good morning, boy,
What can I do for you?"
Of all the men in our street
I like the cobbler best,
Tapping, tapping at his last
Without a minute's rest;
Talking all the time he taps,
Driving in the nails,
Smiling with his old grey eyes -
(Hush) ... telling fairy tales.
poem by Clarence Michael James Stanislaus Dennis
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Classic Sarcasms
I admire those who diligently work,
At that which they do best.
I remember as a young child,
There was one neighbor I would love to pest.
I don't know if she had been psychic.
But on a number of occasions,
She would open her door before I would knock.
'YES? And what do you want, now? '
She would bare her teeth in a toothy growl.
Or she would say, 'You are annoying.
Would you please go away? '
~But, is Johnny home? I want to play.~
'Thank God he's not. You're a pesty little snot.'
~And you are...~
The door would slam.
And I ran.
I remember one time,
Jenny Jay said to me...
'Why don't you children stay in your own apartment.
And pretend you can't awaken from a deep sleep! '
She was a nasty spinster.
And I tried her recommendation too.
But I discovered it didn't work.
She had classic sarcasms.
The best around in town in those days.
And I remember her for the witch she was.
She was good at it.
And quite the perfectionist.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Me the instrument
Music is in my mind
Iam full of glee
My fingers tapping the table
While my palms beat as a drum
My lips pucker and being to whistle
Iam really feeling this souful strum
My feet tapping the floor
It is really fun
Allowing my body to be an instrument
As I gaze at sun
For there is music on the inside
A harmonic hum
If I gave this instrument a name
Iam not quiet sure what it would be
Therefore to keep things simple and
From becoming complicate
I shall simply term this authentic instrument as Me
poem by Angel A. Lockwood
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Hill slope
Down on the hill slope a tree was there with flowers on it,
Season came and season goes,
it remain there with shade and fruits to give,
Small wood pecker or big owl,
all were there as it was there home to live,
One day a wood cutter found it useful to him,
he thought it to cut and takes its wood to sell in city,
birds and squirrel on tree helplessly saw the tree,
they tried to make noise,
but it didn't affected the woodcutter in the need
he cut down the tree to take the wood,
the tree on hiill slope became log of wood,
weak protest of bird and animals,
on it was not enough,
to save the tree.
tree full of life became silent as saying what was my fault,
is it only there right to live,
but yes its true only humans here,
are powerfull and can do anything to live and win,
hill slope became barren and dry like desert
poor tree however it was home for many
didn't found the place on to live on earth.
the reason it don't understand
why it is weak and meek.not able to
survive and get its right to stay alive to give shade and life to others.
poem by Hemu Gupta
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Writing Day
She far watching me as I write
tapping these lines
ignoring side glances
It's now close to seven at night
and we have yet
to start breakfast cooking
My blinders are on kettle cold
only tepid thing
about us being
her first poet I am told
second artist
reassuring novice
But she likes to watch me working
comfort claiming
my mistress accepting
Today for grace a day writing
pulse permissive
as her shoulder tapping's
copyright Randy Resh 2008
poem by Randy Resh
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Early Morning Daydream
Its six o’clock in the morning
and the rain is tapping on my windowpane.
I’ve got up because I couldn’t sleep
for a little space of my own.
Fed our cats, so I could sit in the quiet
and not be bothered by anything.
Letting my mind slide into a dream.
I feel the pull of another world
and not the one I’m living in,
of relaxing in a far off land
surrounded by old friends.
Somewhere I could sit down
and talk away the hours at a long leisurely pace.
Reminisce of the things we’ve done,
both happy and sad.
Enjoying a rest bite from the world
that in which we have to live
and when my eye lids get heavy
as sleep want to approach
I could bit everyone goodnight
and scuttle of to bed
disappearing from that imaginary world
and awake in reality.
Wondering if when I close my eyes again
will I once again visit them?
17 January 2009
poem by David Harris
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The road to truth is long, and lined the entire way with annoying bastards.
Alexander Jablokov in The Place of No Shadows
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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My Dog And Me
When life goes a stray and your poor old dog can’t sing the blues any more. You just have to start tapping with your left foot to the old southern tune. Life is like a road country road winding among the mountains. We want to get there but where never in hurry and when get there its most amazing thing you ever see. So you sit atop a mountain you and your dog a foot a tapping to the old songs of the south. You dog and your dog just look at each other with joy. There is nothing great than life, a man and his dog. So you sit upon a millions of stars gazing at life greatest wonders. I started to my play fiddle and you look at your dog. Your dog looks back and starts tapping his left foot again. A man his dog and life down past the mason Dixie line. So that old dog started howling and at the mid night train. It came rolling around the bend at a quarter to four. The sound of the whistle made my dog start doing the 2 step with old mis.jhonson. The dog and mis.jhonson danced all night to the whistle of southern train bound for Kentucky. I and mis.jhonson got married. So they live happy with their dog in the hills of the appalachaims. every time the train comes rolling around they smile and enbrance there love.
poem by Joe Hirsch
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My Angel
I found a friend
Who always knows something's wrong before I do
I found a friend
Who has listened to everything I say
I found a friend
Who is beautiful and doesn't know it
I found a friend
Who is kind, and caring, and funny
I found a friend
Who loves me for being me
I found a friend
Who tries to understand me
I found a friend
Who loves to give me compliments
I found a friend
Who keeps the guys from annoying me
I found a friend
Who loves being around me even though people talk
I found a friend
Who is kind, and mature, and amazing
These two friends
I'm lucky to have
These two friends
I will always have
These two friends
Help me in different ways
These two friends were sent to me from above...
poem by Tiana Webb
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Spring's Accomplishments
Spring brings with it a warm, gentle breeze
Along with the trees sprouting their baby soft leaves
Gently tapping the ground are the soft showers
Bringing around soft, springtime flowers
Now here they come, the butterflies and the bees
Attracted to the gardens and newly awakened trees
The trees emanate such a calming scent of sap
And the birds nestle down for a peaceful nap
As Easter approaches, the sunshine gets stronger
And as spring continues, the days get longer
The spring goes into a deep slumber
And who takes over then? It's summer!
poem by Caroline Bulleck
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Prince Kajuku
Catch a falling star put it in your pocket
Take hold of the moonbeams, hang them around your neck
Prince kajukus coming feathers in his hair
Tapping on his juju stick, take you down there
Prince kajuku holds you never lets you go
Feel his power around you when your weakness shows
Take a starry circle hold it in your hand
Never let kajuku take [guide] you to his land
Long space jam
Catch a falling star put it in your pocket
Take hold of the moonbeams hang them round your neck
Kajuku, kajuku, walking down the street
Tapping on his juju stick, take you down there
song performed by by Ufo
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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