Best Braggarts Poems
I was embarrassed for my gold-finding prowess was slim to none.
I lived alone, in a mushroom hut, built sloppily for one.
My leprechaun relatives were braggarts, and blowhards and mean.
The things they said to put me down were evil and obscene.
A friendly cardinal named Ed saw them for who they were.
He told me I had to get away, he gave me ideas to stir.
He showed me where Old Man Ligglie Howser buried all his gold.
The man was long-gone from the spot, in a home for the truly old.
I started digging up buckets of gold that very night.
I was careful to hide all of these pieces, clearly out of sight
I bought a red Ford 250 Truck with all the trimming.
I drove away from my relatives with gold pieces clearly brimming.
I gave a little gold to Magna-Fe, a shape-shifter-professional witch.
She changed Cardinal Ed into a handsome lad, although he had a slight twitch.
We married in a little church, in a ceremony so light.
Ed turns into a cardinal in the evenings, so he can do his finder-flight.
He finds the gold and I dig it up. These Leprechauns are so silly.
They use their gardens, throwing the cauldrons willy-nilly.
I have become famous in town, as the Leprechaun Gold-Finding Queen.
And I have wiped my feet of my relatives who were always truly mean.
Categories:
braggarts, 10th grade, 11th grade,
Form:
Rhyme
(Monkey Shines on Typewriter)
Monkey dreams, sex, more sex,
Banana nice too,
Once in a while!
Tastes better though
When cute butt peels for me
Too much rain,
Smell like stale carpet
Who will groom me now?
Something big comes,
Sure not stinky me!
Haul my ass up tree!
Dominant males
Chest thumping braggarts
Really stink I think!
Whoo Whoo Whooee!
Cute butt three trees over!
Maybe she wet too
No notice stinky me
Mistake me for brother
Until too late! Whooee!
Oh Wow! (thumping chest!)
Sweet, sweet, sweet, treat!
Was it good for you too cute butt?
Oh yes, right there!! Hmmmm!
You can groom me anytime!
Brian Johnston
November 1, 2014
Poet’s notes:
This poem started out as a joke on my current poetry contest that has the Challenge Title – ‘Words – The Heart of Imagination.’ I asked myself if monkeys have no words, but do have imagination like Bri Edwards claims to have in his poem (even without words), and I was translating these mental images in a monkey’s brain into English words as a kind of poem, what would it look like?
Bride You, Groom Me also brings to mind the famous line from the first Tarzan movie after Tarzan saves the beautiful blond Jane from certain death and takes her to his home in the trees swinging on vines with Jane over his shoulder..... He says 'Me Tarzan, you Jane!' Surely the greatest understatement of all time!
Categories:
braggarts, fun, love, lust, ,
Form:
Blank verse
"PreOccupation"
spiced
cut up poetry
divides
numbers
intentional
drivel moved
to the side
on a blank page
into neat lines
sucked up
a much loved
addiction
novel and short
Pre Occupation
of all the glossy
shrouded shrouds
minds spiced
scab picking, their
word salads, tossed
the windbags
blowing braggarts
know-it-alls
blow it all
cutting the lines
like neat poetry, up
gladiator
brides
are us
sucking it
all up
like sweet custard
vampire voices
puck shot
through goal posts
cleansed?
they think they're missed;
I think not
baptised virtuous
scrabbled
war torn pilgrims
the lecherous
with nothing
better to do
watch all
bride defectors
sign language
look into the mirror
your reflections all
on repeat, the watchers
all wisened
move through,
or move
through not
they still avidly watch
the time wasting
away
Pre Occupation
sides and numbers
all blood suckers lost
buried, wearing
their shrouds
poetry in lines
black and white
cut up neatly
divided
on a blank page
the sucked up
read all the
time wasted
lost
(LadyLabyrinth / 2023)
Halloween approaches Vampires,
suck blood and be
merry
“The meeting commences in the arena;
Gladiators and space defectors
In walk the druids and the shock troops
In walk the druids and the shock troops
Ringside seats, bird's eye views
Video cameras only tell the truth
Milliards of youths complacent in the eyes
Of their contemporary sleuths
Witch-wizards sat on cosmic thrones
The new age crowned all skin and bones
The sacred priestess of Merlin The Mage
Opens the book, she turns the page ...”
...
"Conspiracy of silence
An orgy of peace
They're all here from every sphere
From every planet to shake their spears
Divide the lands of the halls of Pan
Painted warlords in their hordes
Asa kings and obi queens
Step from my skull and live my dreams
(excerpt/”Druids”, Toyah Wilcox, 1982)
Categories:
braggarts, dark, halloween, muse,
Form:
Narrative
the world can be a - s c a r y- place- full of "nasty" people
braggarts I N S T I G A T O R S and fair weather friends (that hurts the most)
oh the lies GOSSIP insults and judgement and m e a n words spoken
the hate falls on the soul like a thousand DAGGERS and the heart "bleeds"
w e e p i n g with doubt and insecurity like w a v e s on the ocean sweeping over
oh the pain- then from deep within a mighty STRENGTH is rising and a p o w e r
and I remember . . . I've been to the bottom from a pit of "NOTHINGNESS"
I have CRAWLED on my hands and knees it seems how "many" times I forget
so these n e g a t i v e CRUEL people can "never" touch me with their evil
inside me dwells a strength t h e y could never FATHOM or imagine
and I brush them off and RISE above and their daggers F A L L away pointless
so- d e a r reader do "not" listen do "not" bother i g n o r e all nasty people-
___________________________________
June 11, 2016
Poetry/Free Verse/Rise Above It
Copyright Protected, ID 799-474-0
All Rights Reserved. Written under Pseudonym.
Categories:
braggarts, strength,
Form:
Free verse
In the funky train,
All the hoo-ha-noisy end in fisticuff;
As the crumpled greenback hand-out cough,
The law has nothing to handcuff,
Maneuvering on the sloppy storey hill
A frantic dance of dead-drunk crazy masquerade;
Man-handling the dare-devil by weary drenched soaked in
talisman man,
Springs from a ream hole in the floor
Hand-shuffling on long iron pole gear,
Wrestling with reckless white knuckles of steering wheel;
A nipple for torch-light knob looking tough headlamps,
A bare-face speedometer, a mare decor;
Rear is bare, except fanning out putrid fart in
defecating vulva;
And a pumping brake failure refused to catch,
Disaster looms down a glitch away,
Marijuana induced braggarts, bang at the battered dent
body;
All acted in the climatic anti-climax role in the tragic
play,
As horn and side mirrors, villains make do,
Ghastly farewell garland to stranded passengers on
departure;
Welcome to hellish shore of grimacing dismember carcasses,
From the extinct scratched my backside please dense
Bolekaja view,
Stigmatized masses muck arranged tight,
File in wooden slavery mule;
And the pompous promise land looks a light years away,
Now on the garish cold rusted cut steel,
Buttocks crammed on planks for seats;
Knees folded to gangrene stroke roost,
Pillaged and pilloried, rasped and gasped for a slice bread
of life,
Staled sweats seeped and poured decayed stench on forms;
***** squeezed queued on narrow alley,
Romancing buttocks swell sips to bursting through;
And the lushing rhythmic beating drum
Re-enters lock and brake,
Dilepa dilepa dilepa duro nube o!
Omokunrin kan ti daran nube o!
Ofowo kanmi loyan me solo!
ofowo kanmi nidi me solo!
Toku toku lona nkan boyi o!
Komo ipe kolokolo lahere wa!
Categories:
braggarts, urbanme,
Form:
Free verse
Lay down rules to follow
isolation of sins and tears
the plan known only to God
find power in the innocence of fear
Dominion betraying duty
quoting verse, chapter and creed
pompous braggarts revere
dictate the path of greed
Defects of man raised by devine intervention
the cost in souls to feed the need
patterns and rules to which I must bend
to claim success, the lies to breed
How I may strive to live a life devine
your darkened soul perverse in vice
how you tell me to surrender
to your faith I should give my life
What you tell me God is, should I believe?
should I lay down and die?
common sense tells me otherwise
no longer can I follow your lies
Categories:
braggarts, religion, me, life, me,
Form:
Quatrain
by Michaelw1two
Such is this thought, of all things thus bought,
material things, emotional needs, self-respect;
humanity today is wrought, from birth
until nature, accident, or incident;
sets your soul free from your peonage,
your prison, your ragged lifetime begot;
by this illusion that you are free…
humanity’s imagination, gleaned
from ideals on scripted pages,
begs from this universe an answer;
to the how and why of such deception,
and rejection, and inflection,
that minimizes the quality and worth of each being;
sequesters each special seed,
diminishes every opportunity given,
to each and every one of US sent
into this liars den of touts and thieves;
through ideals and thoughts,
to this blithe reality tossed,
that dreams indeed are nothing else
than a cherry less butt…
that nasty bugger picked and flicked,
into the face of the weakest one at school;
such fools believe, ideals behoove all of US,
onto the highest and most lofty deeds;
reality perceived is myth now lived,
for its braggarts, and beggars,
and hind end lickers,
that for a price precede to succeed,
causing honesty and truth to bleed;
red to black, upon the flesh
of the innocent and the weak,
and how these paid touts so smile,
at the chaos they willingly wreak;
all for a bit of valueless paper…
there then is reality flexed,
the pungent stool plopped into
these touts pursed and puckering lips;
gobbled greedily each drop pled bit,
as their Dominis takes his daily ****.!
Michael Darrell WalkerJohn
Categories:
braggarts, corruption, universe,
Form:
Free verse
My dear Miss Peach how lovely!
Your table boasts so fair
You've chosen the finest bubbly
Best porcelain plates and crystal ware
Your handpicked guests are perfect
They know just what to say
They are prefects without defects
With no real opinions per se
Your parties are full of boasting
With braggarts, blowhards and egos
Pomposity excels in what they are toasting
Meaningless, pointless placebos
So Miss Peach I beg you not be stilted
Or try in your best elegance to change
What manner you provide is boring and gilded
And matters not to bourgeois talk wearisomely deranged
October 20, 2020
Completely Your Choice (30) Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Brian Strand
Categories:
braggarts, hyperbole, identity,
Form:
Rhyme
Simple squamous epithelium
That lines the frothing orifice
Of politicians and wine-soaked braggarts
Cytoplasm
That flows equally
In justice and infectious regurge
Genes
That transplant the ghastly
Pale-light abscess of custom-made drivel
God, Ph.D., you too?
Categories:
braggarts, anxiety, betrayal, confusion, grief,
Form:
Free verse
Fishermen were holding their arms stretched out longer than a Ford F-50.
Braggadocio stories were exuberant, not skimpy but sometimes shifty.
Great grandson of one had been fishing without a single fish all day long.
When he pulled out a guppy the braggarts broke into a fisherman’s song.
“whether catfish or guppy, minnows even, if you cannot get a bigger fish.
Someone run up and give that guy the reward for the tiniest catch dish.”
The great-grandson knew then they were including him in their little song.
He threw the teensy guppy back, knowing he had done nothing wrong.
Categories:
braggarts, fish,
Form:
Rhyme
Her spirit longs to chase away the fools
Whose stilted words turn harvests into chaff,
And be alone than prize the empty rules
Which guide their lives and prompt the wise to laugh.
Though Shakespeare, Byron, Shelley, Coleridge, Keats,
Longfellow, Pope and Dryden are long dead,
She’d sooner delve into their metric feats
Than into minds whose dullness weighs like lead.
High praises are a kingly gift, but when
Her mind is numbed by frivolous display,
She leaves the sheep to their ordeal, and then
Ignores what clowns or braggarts care to say.
Find my poems and published poetry volumes at www.eton-langford.com
Categories:
braggarts, humanity, philosophy, poetry,
Form:
Rhyme
I love the way she writes,
and walks,
with all the confidence and strength
that comes her way so naturally.
Not for her the forced bravado
of braggarts
or the simpering shyness
of pretenders.
All she does and writes is bold,
certain,
and immodest.
She makes men’s blood run stronger
and offers no apologies
for the woman in her poetry,
and in her walk.
Categories:
braggarts, lost love,
Form:
Free verse
Krampus is coming right up to your bed
He will give you a slap or thump you on your head
He is evil, a devil, and he does what your parents ask.
So if I were you, I would say “yes ma’am” and do this small task.
Krampus can get you
He grabs up the mean
A devil with face of blue
With manners of a queen.
But isn’t there Santa or Jesus or someone to help me?
This came from the small child, an innocent Christmas plea.
If you do what you are told and maybe a little extra too…
The mean snarly Krampus might not be out to get you.
Krampus can get you
He grabs up the mean
A devil with face of blue
With manners of a queen.
The older sister is rolling her eyes at her brother’s tale.
He is just trying to make you do his job, to bring in the mail!
Older siblings began clawing and snarling; little one yelled stop!
The Krampus will come get you, he warned them with a pop.
Krampus can get you
He grabs up the mean
A devil with face of blue
With manners of a queen.
Krampus went on about his business after looking in on them.
They were not the ones he wanted, they were okay with him.
He was looking for the meanest of the mean, the braggarts and such.
He knew he could trade them for slaves with the hard-working Dutch.
Krampus can get you
He grabs up the mean
A devil with face of blue
With manners of a queen.
(Be sure and sing this part with gusto!)
Categories:
braggarts, 10th grade, 11th grade,
Form:
Ballad
Too often
someone stretches the truth until it becomes the lie
and then defends its falsehood for all to hear and believe in
but some wiser ones sense the truth that lay hidden
grab it by its fallacies and turn the tide to see reality,
no denial, no deferment, no deflection, no delusion, no defense,
only a bastille of truth to be reckoned with.
Which direction do you go
holding onto untruths, errors, mistakes, missteps, outright lie
of the braggarts and the bullies, the loudest shouters in the room
or sweep away every lie to see the steps you're taking
to mold and secure the futures for our children, all children
knowing historic lessons of time
that what we leave behind - is us and what we believe in,
truth, justice, the American Way.
Categories:
braggarts, america,
Form:
Blank verse
We are the huddled masses
yearning to be free
but living in itself lay is often rose-colored glasses,
and remains quite the mystery.
We ache for freedom transfixed
some random yet open display
of races, children, braggarts, heroes, and cowards intermixed,
with declarations of straight, transgender and gay.
What does it really matter as we align
when each one of us live separate lives
barely marking time with impacts undefined
just giving everything in life a try to survive
We rarely know what we want or need,
buried deep lay the truths of who we are
shouldn't we be grateful that we are free to believe
that a god, kind and loving created dust from stars?
It doesn't matter if you're white, yellow, black or brown
or if you're straight or gay or a giant tree or mustard seed
each is creation of an unseen god pulling up when you fall down
god doesn't answer every prayer, god gives you what you need.
Categories:
braggarts, appreciation, god,
Form:
Rhyme