Best Bragging Poems
compound word verse
Any youngster can make us smile
It's special, when it's our grandchild
it's awesome.
A new grandson brings on more fun
blond-haired, blue-eyed, the smallest one
cuddlesome.
A twelve year old girl, full of joy
Eight year old brother, busy boy
now threesome.
Shelley, Brendon and baby Case
once empty nest, a lively place
not lonesome.
Baby noise rattles our rafters
crying, sucking, burping, laughters
he's winsome.
March 20, 2014
A man named Erik sang a drunken lyric on the way up quicken this limerick a field for the horses the name of course I will take it by force sang the drunken Norse unleashing ire a land this limerick
I'm tired of rappers bragging about things that make no sense
We get it, you're going to have sex with our girls because you're unable to get your own girlfriend
What good is you wearing a diamond chain if you don't pay your rent?
You rented a mansion for your music video but go home to live in a tent
Instead of taking the time to create a good work of art, you'd rather put the most amount of songs on an album
Well done you can rhyme with a million words, but you can't spell one
You say you made 10 million from selling drugs, yes of course you did
Stop showing your jewellery off if you don't pay for your kids
You've been popular for 5 minutes and call yourself the best, but soon you'll be irrelevant
You brag about taking drugs, well done, aren't you intelligent?
I'm sat listening to today's rappers and my patience is wearing thinner than a strippers G-string
Because of all these 5 minute rappers calling themselves the king
You brag about being covered in ice, so how come you can't spit a cold rhyme?
You think Gucci gang is a classic song, and anyone who disagrees is an old head with an old mind
You'll do something dumb on Instagram to try and prove you're a mad dude
Well done you should win the award for "Rapper with the most face tattoos"
I'm tired of rappers bragging about things that make no sense
Your song has 7 different words, and you still forget them when you perform at events
You rent a mansion for your music video but go home to live in a tent
Rappers please stop posting pictures of cash when you don't even pay your rent
My pal, Elsie has the biggest plans, grandiose almost, fantastically fun to hear about.
She is a complete delight to be around, and the clothes, hats, and shoes she wears really shout.
She keeps me in stitches for days on end when she flies in with her long-suffering earl.
She is going to start a blog, paint a best-selling canvas, write a novel, and paint a city mural.
Her terrific thoughts, her enormous dreams, her extraordinary plans somewhat set and well-laid.
Hilarity jumps forth when she comes around, to regale us with stories of her latest escapade.
I cannot wait to see her, to find out what she has actually completed this year, all done.
Although it has been rather tough for her to implement or start a project, she is always great fun.
What about your award-winning sculptures I ask her and your paintings, how are they coming along?
I traded those things in for calligraphy, she informed me, but I am writing a terrific love song.
What about your fantasy novel, are there a few completed chapters that perhaps I could read?
Then she throws back her head, laughing prettily from Accomplishment, her well-decorated white steed.
We wave goodbye, knowing we will have this delightful almost identical conversation next year.
It never ceases to amaze me how close to getting started dear Elsie has almost been near.
Her muse and mine hug tightly, because when we were young girls, they were exceedingly close and tight.
Her enthusiasm is exciting, I admire her determination to make her creations perfectly right.
I am not ready, she tells me. Creating a masterpiece is something that takes time.
Maybe next year, she confides because my productions and creations must be awesomely sublime.
Years of incessant planning have not helped Elsie put pen to paper or get started, it is true.
Three husbands, a two hour a week job and a couple of children have prevented her from a glorious follow- through.
With his magical prophet powers
He swore he could start April Showers
And bring a heat wave to enemy land
Saying all of our foes must be banned
To humid, muggy unbearable weather
Causing their skin to feel like shoe leather
A land hotter than even Dante’s Inferno
Packaged in a can of strong Sterno….
Switching sides faster than a traitor
Becoming didactic sooner than later
Saying his truth was better than gospel
That he was as Christian as any apostle
He caused a hawk to slowly flutter by
And changed it into a pretty butterfly
Now his comrades have become weak
Skinned down the field like a blue streak.
Oh ya ,well my mom makes better apple pie
Really,well my mom makes brownies
With peacans and chocolate icing
Thats nothing, my mom sewed me this new sweater from scratch
Well my Dad can fix my bike anytime it breaks,
My Dad sells bikes and got mine for free
A hush,
My Dad left when i was 3, no bike for me.
I once knew a young fellow named Swanson
Who bragged about his enormous johnson
He caught it in a zipper
Which was a painful ripper
And now, he no longer touts his once-on.
written August 14, 2021
Poems come so easily
I don’t take time to be
known as poet spectacular.
I tend to spew them out.
They neither shine nor shout.
But, do rhyme in poetic vernacular.
Not about Me!!! I have to work hard for mine.
© Apr 13 2010
I love my own chili,
I know it sounds silly,
heat in pot
nice and hot
it is truly a dilly.
I love my own meatloaf.
I throw on a sugar top.
Other people would
not do it,
or know how to stop.
I do, you big oaf.
After all, this sugary
brown sugar ketchup combination
is what makes it my meatloaf.
I love my own cooking.
Restaurants are rarely okay.
My most favorite me-cooked-meal
Navy beans and ham, in a gravy
over cornbread,
Good thing my husband likes
it too, or things would be coming
to a head.
About Bragging
There is this thing that is about bragging
And breaking a rule by always dragging
Out things in life you have often done
Like someone intending to be only one.
Temptation to do it seems hard to resist
So people started calling me an egotist
And in poetry contests I have entered
Complain and say I am self-centered.
To many might appear to be repugnant
What I write as being rather redundant
And only fools around me have festered
Many horrible things they often heard.
What I enjoy most is having my own way
Wearing bright orange hair with a toupee
Off the top best things you sure can skim
So what do you think is name of him?
All of us Americans surely put to the test
Great things in Hillary brought out the best
With small hands, puckered lips and long-nosed
She should go ahead and run unopposed.
James Thesarious Hilarious Horn
Retired Veteran and Poet
http://www.poetrysoup.com/poetry_contests/that_rule_was_begging_to_be_broken_8074
I am the only patriotic red, white and blue gnome in the USA, Egmit said.
I was surprised at Egmit’s braggadocio but kept silent.
The 4th of July parade starts at two, and I knew the theme was gnome.
By three that afternoon, Egmit had a long face, he was in tears.
There had been over two hundred patriotic gnomes in the parade.
You are the best one, I told him. This seemed to cheer him a notch.
I dream every night, she brags. I am wearing an aquamarine chiffon dress, and I am doing the tango.
I hate her a bit, for I do not recall even a petite part of my dreams.
Last night I was dancing with a handsome stranger, he was wearing a tuxedo, she said.
Good. I have never been fond of tuxedos. Now I despise them, and men who wear them.
We lived in a gorgeous house, and we looked down on the little people, she said.
Her true self is coming into the conversation now.
Another teacher in the lunchroom catches my eye.
We throw back our heads and laugh.
We cannot stop.
We are cry-laughing now.
What? She asks, having no idea.
There is no way to explain.
You are afraid you are too sensitive? Let me laugh.
First you would have to have feelings, Mr. Always Me Path.
Next you would have to care about another human being.
You are all about yourself, which is what I am always seeing.
Too sensitive? Are you kidding? It's a gag. It's a joke.
I have never in my life met a more "me-and-more-me" bloke.
Too sensitive? Who told you that, your sainted mother?
I know it was not your sister or your intelligent brother.
Your family and I laugh at your pompousness behind your back.
The amount of confidence you have is so clearly out of whack.
Your arrogance proceeds you, your selfishness a bore.
You are a blowhard pure and simple. Do you want to hear more?
Yes, we have this and that and this this this
Their mouths never close, their tongues never miss
Their material things are brought out daily to show
Yet do they know where their surly sons or sad daughters go?
We have heard their offspring are on drugs,dangling far away.
Their children never come home to laugh, eat, study or play.
These parents are parading their emeralds and diamonds now.
Pardon me if I am not impressed I feel no wow.
Where are your children? Do they have food to eat?
What has happened to your hound I used to slip meet?
You have material things, for sure, but is it enough?
I’m glad that what my family has is much better than stuff.
Picture this
Meeting with forty-three women
Two men
Six at each table
An extra squeezed in to one.
Picture this
I always sit by the loudest and proudest
The most egotistical
The one who always gladly shouts out every answer
Sometimes wrong
Sometimes right
Does not count the wrong ones.
Even if we laugh
Picture this
Loud and proud at another table
Selects herself to be spokesperson
Suddenly realizes she has done the task incorrectly
Turns on a co-worker and yells
“YOU SAT THERE AND WATCHED ME DO THIS ALL WRONG!”
Not once, but twice. Screamer's face turns tomato.
Nervous laughter.
Except me.
I was laughing flat out
Loud and proud
Great for any meeting