Best Bully Poems
Bully, the bull dog thought he was tough
He barked until his owner had enough
Bully went to the pound
A disgruntled old hound
He had a name change...now he's called "Scruff"
Blow Hard was a very ugly bullfrog
Sat in a pig sty on a rotten log
Boasted about his size
He was not very wise
Cuz the moron was eaten by a hog
There's an old geezer who has an ego
Told tales of his greatness for all to know
The haughty one cries
His tales were all lies
He's an old phony who has to eat crow
Bully, Blow Hard, and even that old Geezer dude
All three looked at life with eyes that were skewed
Moral of story...
There is no glory
In barking, boasting, or a haughty attitude
EIGHT
A deliberate surprise
A shove from the back
while creating artwork
in my second-grade class
Perhaps an ocean scene
A distant angry memory
of my eight-year-old
consciousness
The broken waxy blue crayon
in my right hand
Before me the ripped orange
construction paper and
a scattered image
Girl bully momentarily
reigned behind me
her face encircled with
frantic spirals….
a golden mane
My neck flashed heat
and then a cold sweat
I challenged her to a fight
In the girl’s bathroom
that day
Pale turquoise tiled walls
screamed at me
as I entered the ring
Staring up I saw a field of wilting flowers….
wads of scrunched up soapy paper towels
hurled up at the ceiling where they clung and
appeared as corpses threatening to fall down
on me at any moment
The pungent thick air of girl
bodies surrounded me….
A hungry lion appeared with
open mouth ready to strike
Tightly wrapped around each other
A blur
A blow to my right side
A second to my stomach
Descending to my knees
catching my breath
Rising up I landed an efforted
blow on her left cheek
An explosion within her wild
starving eyes filled with
superpower magnetism
The pounce
The strike
My body collapsed…
the blue tiles hugging me
Sounds of silence
Distant voices of teacher adults
dispersing the crowd
Inside the small stall
crumpled body crying
on the toilet seat
head on my knees
salty tears cascading
Tasting them now
With armor and shield
bleeding …dented and broken
my heart and soul
rejoiced
Two Presidents convened on this date,
reportedly to negotiate, the end of the
war and Ukraine's fate..
Instead the President of the United States,
and his very arrogant running mate,
chose to publicly bully and intimidate,
cause that's how we "make America great."
President Zelensky didn't take their bait.
He's a man of character, a Presidential trait,
and Ukraine's still a democracy. It's not
the "deep state".
I had not been on another poetry site even a week
And l had already crossed paths with a bully
A self appointed “Professor of Poetry” it seems
Who spewed out rude comments regularly
Now, I don’t know your name
So I will call you Richard
(DICK for short!)
Insulting and belittling
Others poems and effort
Is not called advice or support!
Now DICK, some of us just like to write poems
Simple though that may be
Not for judgement or accolades
Just for the joy of poetry
Being hurtful , rude and insensitive
Arrogant, intimidating and just unkind
Does not make you knowledgeable or gifted
Or a poet of any kind
DICK ….your words have no impact on me
I am strong and your words meaningless and weak
My concern is for the young or vulnerable
Who may be affected or scarred by this garbage you speak
DICK ….. I suspect you think you are superior
Intelligent and of a better class
But DICK I think you are doing a handstand
And talking out your ar*e
Who gave you the right to be so judgemental
To think it’s ok to humiliate and be cruel
DICK you just make yourself look like
An absolute DICK fool …..
Practice what you preach
Often comes to mind
When the holier than thou
Preach of goodness and kind
Get off your soapbox
Stop attempting to teach
Look inward and be truthful
Then practice what you preach
Twelve-year-old Cliff was moaning in his sleep.
Again--bad dreams of Bob the Bruiser who
lived right next door. Bob was a thug, a creep
who picked on smaller kids like Cliff and knew
on Monday mornings they’d have cash to steal,
lunch money for the week. He’d take it all.
Till after school, these kids would get no meal.
The Bruiser ate his fill and had a ball.
Bad Bob saved up a pile of loot and bought
a bike. He told his victims what he’d done.
He jeered, “You’ve got no proof. I won’t get caught.
Tormenting all you losers is such fun!”
One day the bike was lying in between
his yard and Cliff’s. The Bruiser wasn’t there.
Cliff was outside. A man he’d never seen
said, “Let me buy your bike. I’ll treat you fair!?
Cliff’s conscience stirred, but then he thought of how
he’d been abused and robbed. He said, OKAY!”
The stranger said, “Two hundred?” Cliff yelled, “WOW!
That’s just right, Sir.” This was Cliff’s lucky day.
Bob’s parents would deal wisely with their son
when neighbors told them just what he was like.
They’d see he made amends for all he’d done.
They’d NEVER know what happened to that bike.
January 12, 2018
entered in Eve Roper's There's a Brighter Side Contest (picture 1)
She is slowly slipping away,
She sees no point laying waiting to decay,
Tired of the names shes starting to beleive,
The thought of leaving for good gives her relief,
Shell do anything just to get the slightest peace,
Were ever she goes shes used as a punching bag,
Shes sick of it wants it to go away wanting payback,
She tried to get away with drugs but theres no impact,
She wants to paint a red mural at school hoping it add some abstract,
Ptsd takes over she is done with the flashback,
Feeling desprate She plans it out on a scatch pad,
She cant stop the heat from rising she gets mad,
She doesnt care shes maping out her ending,
Shes tired of everyone disrespecting,
They pushed her to this shes done pretending,
Theres no more heart left for mendind,
Theres a assembally today she knows theyll all be attending,
This is her idea of defending,
This time theyll be the ones accepting,
There they all seated like targets,
She says this is what you started,
Most of you watched did nothing to help your all the culprit,
She steps on stage the whole crowd bursts into laughter,
She said get ready this is a disaster,
She pulls out a gun blows of rounds,
One by one the students fall to the ground,
Finally thetes no one left to make a sound,
Shes finally is set free she lets out a smile,
A happiness she hasnt felt in a while,
Shes on the news today shes the only survivor,
It all planned out they call her a fighter,
If you want to bully me,
You'd better stand in line
And I'll warn you right up front,
It's gonna to take some time
It's really not my fault'
Cause it's nothing that I do
The way that I attract
Every loser just like you
Chorus
If you can't take it ,You'd better not give it
Cause I'm just the guy that'll make you live it
I see you like to push around,
Those you think are weak
Trying to intimidate
Ones who turn their cheek
I won't pretend to you
That I'll let it go
When You come to Bully me
There's one thing you should know
Heeee---yaaaaaaa!!
The buzzards picked my bones apart,
the only thing left was my bleeding heart.
They buried me deep then dug me up ,
I guess I wasn't dead enough.
They buried me again and left me to be,
in pain I was left whilst my heart still bleeds.
I only wanted to be just me,
but the buzzards wouldn't let it be.
They gathered around to pick my bones,
I pleaded with God to take me home.
He scooped me up and made me whole,
and gave me wings as white as snow.
Thinking back when I was young
I still recall your bitter tongue
you guys weren’t fooling anyone
behind those plastic smiles.
She felt the daggers in her back
and as she passed I heard you laugh
I’m sure she felt the aftermath
of your relentless wiles.
Your loyal cronies all stood by
and watched as you demoralized
and tortured her with callous lies
she choked and ran away.
I saw her crying in the queue
and I just didn’t know what to do
I felt as much to blame as you
because I’d looked away.
A football game, perhaps a dance
I’d meet her if by happenstance
and hoping for a second chance
to fix things, I would try.
Years have passed I think of her
I wonder how her life endured
all the pain from you and yours
…and now it’s me who cries.
Sparkle, sparkle little twink,
Who the heck you are I think.
How you love to rave and shout.
It matters not what it's about.
You think you look so big and scary,
But like most boars just big and hairy.
You're just making lots of noise,
Throwing fits like little boys.
You pick on those who can't fight back.
You cause them grief and give no slack.
You think you look so big and smart,
But all you show is a small, cruel heart.
So can the chatter and shut the trap,
'Cause like most gossips you're full of crap.
People like you get old real fast,
But like most blocks this too shall pass.
Roses are red
violets are blue
Your mouth is rubber
My feelings are glue
Why must you hate
I haven't a clue
Your narcissistic
Negative mind
Affects us too
Every time
Soon you'll find
Yourself alone
But before I go
I've got one more poem
Sticks and stones
May break my bones
But your words really f****** hurt
you pick on the innocent
pray on the weak
leave the unwanted in your dust
harming all in your path
they go home
bruised and beaten
filled with tears
a lump in their throats
still breathing
still a love in their hearts
yet they have more strength
than you ever will
While cleaning house I over heard the Trolls talking down below.
There was to be a battle in the grove, between a bear and a Troll.
They said this would be the end, to beat all ends, as only one would win.
Well, I’m a mother… so this worried me… on how this would all end.
A Troll and a Bear… fighting…I feared nothing good could come of that.
So, I had to find a way to come between them, to stop them in their tracks.
I talked to the Trolls, who said: this was a thing they… simply… had to do.
In fact, they said they’d all go, and would cheer it on, till it was finally through.
They left when I wasn’t looking, and I had to be there to stop it… so I ran.
The battle would be in the Bear groves where the bully frogs all live.
First I tripped over a root, breaking my shoe, so barefoot… I continued on.
Then I fell into the creek, coming up with mud everywhere, all around.
Brambles caught my shirt tearing my sleeve, but I certainly, wouldn’t give up.
I’ll admit, that Panic does some strange things, as I continued… to… speedup.
Watching where I was going would have been a really good thing, I agree.
But, I ran into the grove, a mad woman, with pepper spray in my grasp, you see.
Low and behold, I’d been wrong! There was a card game quietly going on.
The bears and the Trolls in their best clothes: and all sat there, giving a yawn.
It then dawned; this was a poker game of high stakes, which I had come upon.
The bully frog referees and everyone looked at me, like my mind was totally gone.
Actually, that’s probably right... Maybe, with worry… I truly had… gone mad.
Quietly I sat down, to watch the game… until the bear won it all… how sad.
Embarrassed, I tried to quietly sneak out: very quickly, you can be assured.
Low and behold, I ran straight into a tree… getting their attention, for sure.
Laughing hilariously, one of the Trolls picked me up, and carried me home.
He said, he was afraid for my health, should I be allowed to further roam.
They were right of course, but my mind will be better by tomorrow morn
You’ll see… I’ll prove it… when my next new poem is born…
There are poetry bullies.
Have you met one, yet?
I know it sounds off,
such a foreign concept.
People who love words
and fitting them just so,
polishing a poem
to watch it glow,
that they could turn
their magical pen
and wield them to slash
seems a grave sin.
For gifted with feeling
and a sharp mind
to turn and hurt others
is more than unkind.
For their targets are poets!
--the sensitive sorts
with lovely expression
and vulnerable hearts.
Be careful out there.
Be keenly aware,
but please be brave,
and continue to share
your lovely selves,
your ideas, all your bests,
and please don’t be bullied
by poetry pests.