Best Conceited Poems


Premium Member Conceited Bird

arrogant and proud
nothing ruffles his feathers
train of eyes watching

*The peacock’s tail is known as a train


Jan Allison
8th April 2015

Bio Modified - Conceited Imposter

BIO MODIFIED – CONCEITED IMPOSTER

Conceited
A poet a playwright, an actor and dreamer.
I love my reflection, a challenge, applause.
I’ve thought of a screenplay, a sit-com and novel.
I feel I am perfect, a genius, appealing.
I fear I’ll be wrong on all three of those feelings.
I’d like to write music, to sing and to dance.
A resident of dreamland, I don’t have a chance.
Imposter 

31st March 2020
Bio Modified contest
Sponsor - Dear Heart

Quite the Conceited Cook

In the larger view I'm the better cook.
Some folks can hardly boil water.
They'll take a recipe by the hand
and lead it straight to slaughter!

Yet I don't need a recipe.
My hands and mind are strong.
If you let me taste your dish you'll see
I'll capture it like a song.

A dash of this and a pinch of that
are really all that I need.
When I put on my pretend chef's hat
for my know-how you will plead!

So don't even try to imitate me.
I'm better than Betty Crocker.
I put to shame Chef Boyardee
or maybe I'm off my rocker!



for contest "I Spit Fire"
November 26,2013
© Deb Wilson  Create an image from this poem.


Premium Member Confession of a Conceited Rose

Being a rose I strike a pose, I'm preening for your gaze,
The flower queen by any means, entitled to high praise. 

Of upper class I got some sass, no equal to my spell, 
My thorns are sleek, adding more chic, may hurt yet meaning well.

And best of all - I'm standing tall, my stem juicy and thick, 
I'm pampered so, nurtured to grow, I'm lovers' premier pick.

My scent's refined, my petals shine, the focus of the date, 
But once I’ve bloomed, my beauty's doomed, the cycle of my fate.

So much to lose, If I could choose, my throne of beauty queen -
I would trade fast for what would last - the life of evergreen. 


February 19, 2023

Sponsor: Joseph May 
Contest: In Bloom

Am I Conceited

Am I conceited? 
Cause I know I got a nice body
After this poem 
Ima have you thinking probably 
And after this
Girls I know you gonna want me
But enough bout that
Lets talk about my body…
6 packs are jumpin out my stomach
Like their my side-kicks
That’s why I keep my shirt off
Don’t wanna hide this
Let me take you to my shoulders 
Gotta tell you more
They stand in the air
Like the back of a dinosaur
And my arms are so cut
You can tell by the looks
You won't see this kinda body
Unless you look in a body book
Lets go down
Let me take you to the floor
Feet are so big
I got to order out of the store
My legs are next
That’s one thing that’s okay
When I flex definition pops put
Like I might faint 
If you have any questions 
Or wanna see how I be
Hit me up and I’ll give you a demo
From my head to my feet…
Ha…ha…ha…
Man that was fun

Can Be Conceited and Self Centered

should have spent more time
with dear ones that I do love
meant so much to me

can be conceited
is way that they want to be
meets their own purpose

do put pills in drawer
will not spill them anymore
know what they are for


had been deep in doubt
so brought whole bottle out
with glee she did shout

when we start to swing
different tune would always sing
 with me Bible bring
© James Horn  Create an image from this poem.


Premium Member Conceited Love

What ills you elicit with your mordacious tongue
shackled am I, while you trifle with my love.
You horde my affections with a cartridge of conceit
then loiter in self pity as I, wizened, exit with relief.



Written on 3/28/2017

Some Conceited Bat

The rat to the bat: " Sir, up close 
      you look almost like a rat
            so, I'd want to call you cousin, 
                  if you don't mind being that."

The bat to the rat: "No way, impudent
      rodent, you're so crass
            denizen of the foul gutter,
                  you're without a touch of class,

" listen, presumptuous fool, I swoop, 
      you creep, you crawl, I fly
            in evolution's totem pole,
                  you're down below, I'm way up high

" I'm first cousin of the larks,
      you're brother of the ticks and gnats
            remember this, angels are to humans
                  as bats are to rats."

Conceited

You say your love is legit while on a another mans lap you sit.
I see your jealousy and patience when i don't blow a fit.
So I give you what another man won't.
A pretty noose around your neck.
So you can hang with a desperate man with a devious plan.
Who thinks being obnoxious is a strategy results only in a naive girls tragedy.
So before he kicks the chair out from underneath your feet.
Just remember your love isn't about defeat.
Her only crime was self conceit.
© Jeff Bell  Create an image from this poem.

Premium Member Who Says You Are Too Sensitive

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?

An Intellectual Crisis

Egostic
You might give someone the title for  their book
But that doesnt mean you gave them the words
to write    
You may give someone a dollar because they need it but 
that doesnt mean you are their financial support
system
For we are so narcissistic in ones accomplisments
that we see ourselves in others bodies when we 
look in the mirror
And we are hipnotized  by a mask that we wear
and be come obsessed.
Conceited
We expect so much that
in our minds        
we
 are the now the light
that has the gravitational pull
that forces a "body" to rotate 
around us.     
Don't we see that there have  more important
things to complain about
Why do we expect someone to give to us for
helping them
Why did we let help become
ones burden 
Instead of a relief
We are the causes
But complain about the effects.
© Anon Mac  Create an image from this poem.

Premium Member That Could Not Be It

Henpecker was the most handsome cock in the barnyard.
He had known this since he was a baby because his mother told him.
She had built him up, stroked his ego, admired his beauty.
I am the best, the most, the quintessential rooster, he thought.

The hens made fun of him behind his back; he was pompous.
He was arrogant, and the farmer did not have any eggs now.
The farmer could not imagine what had happened.
Since the old rooster died, the hens stopped laying.

He went in and gave himself a look in the mirror.
“You’ve still got it,” he said to himself. His wife rolled her eyes.
“Maybe that cock is too stuck up for the hens,” She suggested.
“That couldn’t be it,” the farmer said, winking at his reflection.

Conceited

You say your love is legit while on a another mans lap you sit.
I see your jealousy and patience when i don't blow a fit.
So I give you what another man won't.
A pretty noose around your neck.
So you can hang with a desperate man with a devious plan.
Who thinks being obnoxious is a strategy results only in a naive girls tragedy.
So before he kicks the chair out from underneath your feet.
Just remember your love isn't about defeat.
Her only crime was self conceit.
© Jeff Bell  Create an image from this poem.

Conceited

I look to good to be wearing that. 
I look to good to be having kids.
 I look to good to be getting rough. 
I look to good to just settle for less than i'm worth.
 I look to good to just holla at anyone.
 To give my love away to someone who doesn't deserve it.
 I look to good to stay in an abusive relationship.
 I look to good to be nervous when i'm near you.
 But I am and it scares me.
 When it comes to you and me my confidence goes so low it's crazy.
 Maybe it's because your a mystery. 
I look into your eyes and I can't read them. 
Maybe it's because your opinion matters most.
 Your words could break me and because of that i'm so fragile.
 I look to good to be doubting myself.
 But when I get around you I doubt everything.
 Being in love is making me less concieted and more real.
 I'm not concieted just confident but around you I have no idea what I am.
 Concieted not even.
 I run in the dirt and put on unironed jeans.
 My image is whatever I want it to be. 
I am a modest person who doesn't fish for compliments.
 Sometimes i'm insecure. 
Sometimes I think you don't notice or care.  
But that's just me being myself.

The Arrogant Ewe

A lamb-like ewe is strutting across the fields-
conceited Irishman is the vibe it yields.

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