Weebles Poetry Slam #2!

Madame Weebles —  June 29, 2012 — 72 Comments

Before we start with the festivities, I’d like to wish all my Canadian friends a happy Canada Day weekend.  Enjoy!

And now, it’s time for our next Weebles Poetry Slam!  For those of you who have joined us since our last event, here’s a recap of the highlights of that evening.

This time around I’d like to open it up to everyone, not just the Weebles.  Everyone is invited to participate and share a poem.  All submissions are welcome—freeform, limerick, couplet, doublet, sonnet, haiku, anything you like. It can be silly, serious, or somewhere in between. Doesn’t matter. Just bring it.

I’ll start us off:

Mary had a little lamb
Then she had a little ham
Followed by a little jam
And then she had cramps.

Now it’s your turn!

72 responses to Weebles Poetry Slam #2!


    Poetry?! Boy, you really like to stretch me (us) don’t you. You might as well ask me to levitate.

    Ok, ok. I’ll try and think of something …


    Is there anything *else* that rhymes with Nantucket?


    I’ve never slammed a poetry.
    I never thought I should.
    But, really, “Trees”, Joyce Kilmer?
    Talk about dead wood!


    Weebles wants poems.
    I only write bad haikus.
    This will have to do.


    Madame Weebles once hosted a slam
    Jammin’ with Mary, cooked pig and her lamb
    i suck at this art
    always have – from the start
    So i’ll fill up this space with bad spam…


    There once was a blogger named Weebles.
    She asked for poems from her peoples.
    So I kidnapped a bum.
    So that he’d write me one.
    But the end result was very feeble.


    I see in the pic
    The Red Weeble has been slain
    With an ax, She smiles


    I shall enter my entry in biblical verse.

    AND LO! On the last night of the week,
    the lady of Weebles didst give unto the people

    the majestical coupletting of verse,
    yea! As prayers beneath a steeple

    Some poems, like this one,
    deserved to be in a hearse.

    This is as much fun as my occasional beatnik poetry slams! If I had known it was coming, I’d have booked a musician for my backup!


    Dear Madame Weebles-
    You made me laugh out loud
    all these comments in this crowd
    you fecking rock
    and now I have writers block
    write as I may
    I am filled with dismay
    because I have nothing to say
    but pass me some
    ham and yummy jam
    so i can get out of this pickle
    my funny bone you did tickle


    Madame Weebles
    dancing in Peebles
    on the Church steeples
    dance up and dance down
    with sweet Clare Flourish
    whose prose does nourish
    whose poetry -something
    -something else

    whiteladyinthehood June 30, 2012 at 9:30 am

    Mary gave her little lamb away
    and bought herself a duck
    She thought he’d make a better pet
    but she was outta luck
    The duck was stupid
    He quacked all day
    and was a rotten swimmer
    She put him in a roasting pan
    and had his butt for dinner


    I seriously SUCK at poetry but here goes. Since it’s your slam MW, this one’s for you:

    There once was a mysterious lady
    Who’s prose and musings may seem a bit shady…
    But with her weebles and mirth
    Her chutzpah and worth
    Turns out she’s more like Mother Earth.

    by Brigitte :D


    I can’t think of a poem, but I’ve enjoyed reading the ones in the comments!


    Because I could not stop for Weebles
    She kindly stopped for me
    Her blog held but crazy jokes
    And made me want to pee.

    Emily “Grippy” Dickinson


    There are some seriously good slam poets in this crowd! :)


    If life was all she wrote…
    then seems our world is self sacrificing
    in that oh so limited way one has.
    She smiled
    She stated
    She waxed sentimental…
    and then she broke bread
    drank a glass of wine
    and went to bed
    …dreaming poetic the entire way.


    Here lie some coins, after shave,
    an old brush for the pet.
    A stamp, some paper clips, it’s even my
    unpaid bill file cabinet.
    A safety pin, unwanted business cards,
    Even an old NYC subway token.
    Here too, rests an unmailed letter to one
    with whom in years I have not spoken.
    But when it comes to dusting, this is one
    place she knows to stop.
    God help the mortal-to-be-ghost, who messes
    with my dresser top!

    my dresser top (title)


    Ode to M. Weebles Poetry Slam #2

    Jesus, this is so homeworkish!
    The pressure is on to perform.
    Must make an effort to not sound dorkish …
    When feeling as dull as a worm.


    And now for a little near-plagarism:

    So much depends
    on a red weeble

    glazed with
    red corn syrup

    beside the white
    chicken weebles


    Sweltering in the City
    Searching for my long shaker of salt
    Oh, wait, I think someone else already did that ditty
    I think I’ll go back to the single malt!

    LOL :)


    Madame Weebles is her name,
    a righteous, rockin’ bloggin’ dame,
    her humor and insight are both top shelf,
    don’t agree, then go … do something more positive with your time rather than hating on somebody–really, that’s just not cool.


    OK. I just had to comment because “Mary Had a Little Lamb” was written by the great Sarah Josepha Hale, who is the subject of my forthcoming children’s book. So there!

    Oh, and here’s the first verse of another children’s book I wrote:

    My mom loves to cook, she just doesn’t know how.
    She often fries up the wrong parts of the cow,
    Or the lamb, or the fish, or whatever’s on hand,
    And makes a concoction that no one can stand.
    But she hit a new low on one snowy day,
    When she piled our plates high with pig snout soufflé.

    Consider yourself slammed! (Poetry slammed, that is.)


    words are word – don’t you know it
    until you go and ask a poet
    then they”ll start to rhyme
    each and every bloody time
    couplets and lyric flowery verse
    a spewing montezuma curse
    delightful, perhaps, at the very first
    and then just getting worse and worse
    perhaps it is some deep psychosis
    or some other deranged diagnosis
    that a poet oddly feels so compelled
    to share what really ought to be withheld
    so there you go my funny weeblie Madame
    a verbal free-flow and now I’ve gotta scram
    Now how do I actually end it?
    Of f-that I am just going to send it!


    I missed the Weebles Poetry Slam.
    I feel like such a loser.
    But it’s only ’cause ’twas Canada Day,
    And I was just a boozer.


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