Submit Your Poems
Get Your Premium Membership


Best Hyperbole Poems

Below are the all-time best Hyperbole poems written by Poets on PoetrySoup. These top poems in list format are the best examples of hyperbole poems written by PoetrySoup members

Search for Hyperbole poems, articles about Hyperbole poems, poetry blogs, or anything else Hyperbole poem related using the PoetrySoup search engine at the top of the page.

Definition & Discussion of Hyperbole Poems
Read Hyperbole Poems

See also: Best Famous Poems

New Hyperbole Poems

Don't stop! The most popular and best Hyperbole poems are below this new poems list.

HYPERBOLE OF BEAUTY by Amada, Sarki
FREE CEE refining and mainlining hyperbole by cohan, jeffry
HALF-HEARTED HYPERBOLE by naces, romeo
half-hearted hyperbole by naces, romeo
Hyperbole No More by Weber, John
Clannish Hyperbole by naces, romeo

View all new Hyperbole Poems

The Best Hyperbole Poems

Details | Hyperbole Poem | |

Ugly Words

Words with such ugly meanings
do not belong in the everyday conversation.
Contrary to popular belief
you can live another day
without disgusting proclamations.
In what way is saying, "That girl's hot as sh*t"
a compliment?
These words are not to be used frivolously
like so many condiments.
A dashing here,
and a dashing there.
What am I, Emeril Lagasse, saying BAM!
for flair?
They are not rays of sunshine
popping out of the clear blue sky.
Nor are they functioning wings
that make you soar high.
I know in truth most don't care;
F-this and f-that,
I mean really, what are you
trying to get at?
If it's just a personality trait
then I guess I'm stuck at a locked gate.
I'm not trying to pick a lock,
this is truly just how I talk.
... for sure not attempting to spread hate,
I just find it all quite unappealing.
Is it too much to ask
to measure up your words
with how you're actually feeling?

Copyright © Timothy Hicks

More great poems below...


Details | Hyperbole Poem | |

Plastic Siblings

Genial to avoid confrontation
Baseborn kind, complaisant character
A spurious recital, a cheap imitation
Apocryphal mind, and comical creations
Counterfeited Christ
An unholy effusion
Sons of Belial
Clutch arcane knowledge
Esoteric information

Delve into oracular verse.
Deadened faith
Recondite belief denuded denials
Portentous and abstruse
Divested of the truth
Desolate road
Traveled day after day
Seriatim in miles
Strangled in hyperbole
Hypothetical noose

Cheaply loose
Tightening
methodically

Suicidal salvation
Covertly clandestine
Do what art wilt
Deliver the chosen
indoctrinate guilt
Derision to the destined
To learn love over hate
Adoration to inculcate
Imbue their sick lessons.

Copyright © Joel Thornton


Details | Hyperbole Poem | |

This Year In English Quintain

Someone is knocking at my door The night’s cold, my world’s dying and drear It’s Good Joy. Cheers! No more, no more Oh dear, I cannot open the door for her Sorry Joy, glide by, I’m sick and not in my gear. Someone is knocking at my door The night’s cold, my world’s dying and drear It’s Good Hope but I can’t be lured. In dark shadows I grope, what makes you come here? I know you mock the life, glide by, I desire. Someone is knocking at my door The night’s cold, my world’s dying and drear Oh, It’s Good Health. This year you won’t be ignored Welcome, I dart my doors open for you, dear. I do need nothing but your blessings this year.
+++ January 15, 2015 Form: Quintain (English-ABABB)

Copyright © Dr.Ram Mehta


Details | Hyperbole Poem | |

I See You

I See You...

Wanderer, wanderer, lost in the haze
void of direction, succumb to the craze.
Give ear to my madness, so deftly designed;
deception de-jour: aimed to muddle your mind.

Hocus and pocus no need for free thought, 
erase your opinions, your conscious to rot.
As sugar and soda your smile decay,
a hoax and swindle, then off on your way. 

Smoke and a mirror, please don’t look too close.
The truth makes one banal; drugs for the morose.
Illusion can conjure emotions untapped
a quick misdirection, now I’ve got you trapped. 

You think you arrived here, quite all on your own
you’re one of a billion, another sad clone…
I’ve stolen the treasure that once made you free
brainwashed you to thinking all’s as it should be.

Gobbledygook and hyperbolized drivel
platitudes, platitudes, mentally shrivel;
accept what I tell you, and not an ounce more,
wanderer, wanderer, you’re lost evermore. 

07/12/15

Copyright © The Grahamburglar


Details | Hyperbole Poem | |

A Gentle Breeze-

It begins with a gentle breeze,
rustling the leaves with its touch.
Scurrying through the tops of trees,
it begins with a gentle breeze.
Not enough to discourage bees,
it's only brisk, it isn't much.
It begins with a gentle breeze,
rustling the leaves with its touch.

It's only brisk, it isn't much,
until that breeze begins to gust.
Yet you can still escape its clutch,
it's only brisk, it isn't much.
It topples garbage cans and such,
gathering up a cloud of dust.
It's only brisk, it isn't much,
until that breeze begins to gust.

Gathering up a cloud of dust,
it dims the sun's diminished light.
And attacks with increasing thrust,
gathering up a cloud of dust.
As shutters squeak and hinges bust,
a furious gale gives them flight.
Gathering up a cloud of dust,
it dims the sun's diminished light.

A furious gale gives them flight,
as loose shingles fly through the air.
Morphing into objects of might,
a furious gale gives them flight.
People join hands and hang on tight,
for flying debris packs a scare.
A furious gale gives them flight,
as loose shingles fly through the air.


Written Aug.28th ,2015 For "WIND - Poetry Contest".

Copyright © Emile Pinet

More great poems below...


Details | Hyperbole Poem | |

Galaxy of Gifts

             
                  The tip-tap of my beating heart crushes under the memory of hurt. 
                   I have no place to turn, nowhere to hide, pressures upon my soul;
                                               the pressures of the past
        what is the difference between myself and the clique of suicidal individuals.

    This wave though the ebb and flow of winters wind, so goes my determination 
                    to succeed. I`ve been in shadows and cages-times of changes. 
                            Turmoil and regrets overwhelmed by engulfing tears.
	      My bed sheets in a mess, as I toss and churn of imputing worries

      The glow of the moon warms my face, the cracks of desolation burns my mask.
                            Kneel down and smile as the Lord is with you.

                        His given you nature, your love, your foes and allies.
                            And with a smile you accept your galaxy of gifts.
	
                                                                                              By: Jodian van Aarde
                                                                                              Earth EtiQuette Poetry

Copyright © Jodian van Aarde


Details | Hyperbole Poem | |

Bursts Of Light-Visual:6

Like shooting stars they pierce the dark, and paint the sky with bursts of light. As oohs and aahs follow each spark, like shooting stars they pierce the dark. Rockets explode over the park, raining color unto the night. Like shooting stars they pierce the dark, and paint the sky with bursts of light. Written May 23rd, 2015 for contest “ONE LOVELY SUMMER TRIOLET”.

Copyright © Emile Pinet


Details | Hyperbole Poem | |

Last Lingering Light-

A red sunset bleeds onto a blue sky,
behind branches of a majestic oak.
And shadows ink green leaves in silhouette,
as lonely crickets chirp and bullfrogs croak.

I can hear the crops rippling in the breeze,
and a brook babbling with a southern drawl.
Yet they’re lost in the quiet of night,
as time slows to a perceptible crawl. 

Adventurous moths flutter in the air,
while acrobatic bats blindly take flight.
And as dark descends like a velvet curtain,
day acquiesces to the might of night.

A quicksilver moon pools amidst the clouds,
dripping drops of sunshine onto the lake.
And all of heaven begins to glitter,
as billions of sleeping stars now awake.

And dusk snuffs out the last lingering light,
as nature silently whispers, Goodnight.

Written July 31, 2015 for “Nature Poems Only - Poetry Contest”

Copyright © Emile Pinet


Details | Hyperbole Poem | |

Dragon Eyes

She enters the room like a storm,
thunder rumbling within her wake.
And a deluge of tears follows,
while the very ground seems to quake.

She’s an explosion of fireworks,
as spectacular as the dawn.
And exuding flames of fury,
in a sudden flash she is gone. 

A lady to be reckoned with,
fire flares in her dragon eyes.
And strikes fear in the hearts of men,
exposing secrets and stale lies.

A source of fiery energy,
her eyes illuminate the night.
And her aura intensifies,
to a glow of exquisite light.

Copyright © Emile Pinet


Details | Hyperbole Poem | |

Tasted So Good

I ate some fried catfish and it tasted so good!
Just how good did that fried catfish taste?
It tasted so good it made a hound dog slap a bull dog.
That had to have been some mighty fine vittles.

I ate some fried chicken and it tasted so good!
Just how good did that fried chicken taste?
It tasted so good it made a wolf howl and a grizzly bear dance.
That had to have been some mighty fine vittles.

I ate some fried crawfish and it tasted so good!
Just how good did that fried crawfish taste?
It tasted so good it made an alligator turn a somersault.
That had to have been some mighty fine vittles.

I ate some fried rat and it tasted so bad!
I had to throw it all up in a brown paper bag.

Copyright © Jerry Stevenson


Details | Hyperbole Poem | |

Gnarly Balls

Gnarly balls, gnarly balls,
Vladimir Putin’s got gnarly balls.
He wrestles bears
But he’s losing his hair.
Vladimir Putin’s got gnarly balls.

Copyright © Jerry Stevenson


Details | Hyperbole Poem | |

Run Santa Run

I glanced into my rear view mirror and what did I see?
A big old chubby Santa Claus was running after me.
I stopped to find out exactly what was up.
He wanted me to refill his frigging coffee cup.
I told him I was caffeine free and gave him a glass of green tea.

Copyright © Jerry Stevenson


Details | Hyperbole Poem | |

Night of Mystery

The sun was rather hasty--
I might go so far as this;
Because of it, that starry night,
Concluded with a kiss.

And for its misplaced manners--
Its intrusion, if you will;
I have hung the darkest curtains
Just above the window sill.

But should the sun allow it--
One long night of mystery;
I'd pull the curtains down, and smile
For the possibility!

Copyright © Mel Merrill


Details | Hyperbole Poem | |

Gravity

Huge swirling storm clouds
seem to defy gravity.
Seek safety in space.

Copyright © Jerry Stevenson


Details | Hyperbole Poem | |

Bacon Fanatic

Bacon! Morning Joy!
Dead Pig Delight! Out Of Sight!
It Will Make You Fat!

Copyright © Jerry Stevenson


Details | Hyperbole Poem | |

What Does The Dog Say

What does the dog say?
“I chase my own tail because
it looks delicious.”

Copyright © Jerry Stevenson


Details | Hyperbole Poem | |

Elusive Unicorns

I was scrambling through the forest floor,
rambling all around the underbrush,
searching for acorns and pine cone nuts.

I am on a brand spanking newfangled diet,
much more better suited for mice and rats,
which assures me a healthier physical mainframe.

While sitting on a stinking rotten tree stump,
taking a short respite, I spotted a pair of unicorns.
To my great surprise, the male was blue and the female pink.

To my chagrin, I had not brought a camera,
so I was unable to accurately record
this most momentous of discoveries.

I did my very dang best to stay sight unseen,
but I guess the pair spotted me and in a flash
the two majestic unicorns were long gone.

I quickly scurried back home and told my whole family
all about the pair of awesome unicorns I had spotted.
No one believed me and they placed me in a mental facility.

I explained to the psychiatrist in great detail all I had seen.
He slowly and sternly told me I must have been hallucinating,
because it is a settled scientific fact that all unicorns are orange.

Copyright © Jerry Stevenson


Details | Hyperbole Poem | |

Missing

Here goes...
she said
it loudly and
proudly:

Hello…
l`m a miss
and  l miss 
you inside out

Truly…
I miss you like
bees really miss
their honey

Wow…
water for my thirst
food for my hunger
scratch for my itch

Well…
want to take
to you like 
duck to water

Oh…
you draw me
to you like
moth to light 

Yes…
you are my cake
my cup of goodies
my hot ice-cream

Indeed…
at night my moon
daytime my sun
your love my light

Relax…
take a seat
I sold that heater
for your heat

Please…
you bathe in milk 
l bask in your presence
a sublime quench

Finally…
what she did not
say is that we`re close
strangers on the net!

Copyright © Ndaba Sibanda


Details | Hyperbole Poem | |

What Does The Butt Say

What does the butt say?
“Do not sit on me fatso,
it makes me real sore.”

Copyright © Jerry Stevenson


Details | Hyperbole Poem | |

Burger Joint

Lucy and Matilda were on the job at the burger joint.
Bad boy Buzz Muldoon rushed in brandishing a gun.
Matilda kicked the would-be robber square in his junk.
Lucy bashed his head in with a badass ball-peen hammer.
The two hard working ladies continued cleaning up the joint.
They chunked Muldoon in the dumpster with the rest of the trash.
Lucy and Matilda opened the establishment without missing a beat.
It was just another typical day right here in the big bad city.
To be successful entrepreneurs in this old turbulent world,
you have to grow a pair of big brass gnarly ones, be you male or female.

Copyright © Jerry Stevenson


Details | Hyperbole Poem | |

What Does The Doc Say

What does the Doc say?
“I’m God with a stethoscope.
Welcome to my world.”

Copyright © Jerry Stevenson


Details | Hyperbole Poem | |

Tee Shot

Address.
Stance, grip,
settle in, shake out,
place the club head,
sweet spot kissing
the doomed ball,
a ripe plum
against the steel.
Eternity.
Doubt about 
the Oppenheimer reallocation.
Eye on the ball, 
a visual feast,
view the flag,
take a picture of it
with the mind,
eye on the ball.
A breeze, a frown,
left foot forward
a millimeter,
club head opened 
four thousands of an inch,
the reckoning 
of terrible variables.
Imagine the Masters:
“Mr Scott Davis of Fort Wayne Indiana,
you are away.”
Address.
Perfection, shake out,
wiggling hips,
exhale, the paroxysm
of tension, mind and body
crystallized.
The flag appears
as a scrapbook photograph,
the drum roll crescendo
of concentration stops.
Silence.
The Oppenheimer reallocation
was a good move.
It's time.
The back swing,
a slow pendulum
of machine precision
rises to the twisted apex 
and hovers.
The sword of Damocles,
falls slowly to release.
Scott gives it his all.
Eye off the ball.
The Oppenheimer reallocation.
Ping!
Follow through.
Angst.
There it is!
The ball is shooting straight
down the fairway
as an artillery round,
climbing to trajectory,
rising, hanging, hanging
beyond gravity,
falling, falling, dropping.
Thud. 
Direct hit on the green,
rolling, rolling, stopping
ten feet from the pin. 
“Yes!”
Could be better but
birdie is possible –
very possible.
Scott lifts the heavy golf bag
and soldiers down the fairway. 
The sun could not
be brighter,
the sky more blue,
the grass more green,
the birds more musical.
Scott is hopeful
of birdie
on Par 3.


Copyright © Peter Kautsky


Details | Hyperbole Poem | |

Big Butt

Juicy Lucy has a really big butt.
She dances nude down at the Rutting Hut.
Horny men stand in line
to kiss her huge behind.
Alcohol turns a man into a nut.

Copyright © Jerry Stevenson


Details | Hyperbole Poem | |

Hoot Owl

Big-eyed hoot owl perched in a tree,
hunting for prey while eyeing me.
He swooped down swiftly and caught a mouse,
flew up and landed on the eave of my house.
Old hooty owl quickly ate the vile little beast,
burped once loudly, then glided off slowly due east.
Wise Mr. Owl will return late tomorrow evening,
perch up high in the same darn tree and give me a warning
by turning his swiveling head 180 degrees all of the way backwards,
giving me a wild-eyed wink and dropping on my sidewalk a couple of turds.

Copyright © Jerry Stevenson


Details | Hyperbole Poem | |

Turtles Talking Smack

Turtle Tom and Turtle Tony were walking across a grassy field
knowing that their hard shells would protect them from most harm.
Their natural enemies in rural Arkansas number only three.
The mighty cougar and its cousin the wily bobcat
have the jaw strength to crush a turtle’s shell.
The only other critter that presents an ever present danger
is a very determined and extremely hungry raccoon.
Rocco Raccoon with his sharp teeth and dexterous front paws
can, if really famished, eventually crack a turtle’s harden shell.
The greatest of the turtles’ enemies is a careless human being,
whether it be from a swiftly moving vehicle or a nut with a gun.
With the off road vehicles getting larger as time goes by,
a turtle’s life expectancy gets shorter as the decades pass.
Turtle Tom and Turtle Tony slowly caught up with Turtle Tim
and the trio of tiny smack talking tortoises told one another
tall tales of great conquests from their long lived pasts.

Copyright © Jerry Stevenson