Best Disgruntled Poems
Here I stand on the front lawn for all gawking passersby to see;
A convenient spectacle on which neighborhood dogs choose to pee!
I try to keep my cool (so to speak) as people make sport of me,
With carrot nose, silly hat, arms formed from branches of a tree!
A corncob pipe clamped between charcoal teeth shapes my face;
I feel so ridiculous lounging here staring off into distant space.
Its those little household terrors who made me who I am,
Then they leave me to thaw in the sun not giving a tinkers damn!
I would just as soon have remained anonymous in a snow drift by the fence,
But if I may say so, I'm a handsome dude - that said in my own defense!
Politically correct jerks call me a 'snow person' upsetting me so!
Dang it! I'm a SNOWMAN and have been from generations ago!
Its cold out here but I reckon they dare not light a flame, lest,
It would hasten my doom which is so very tenuous at best!
So passersby, enjoy me whilst you can before my certain demise,
As I slowly sink to the ground liquefying right before your eyes!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
Categories:
disgruntled, humorous, winter,
Form:
Rhyme
'Twas time once again to saddle up for the annual world tour,
Another flying trip around the earth that they must again endure!
"I'm a-gittin' too old fer this flyin' business!" declared Prancer!
"That fat old man is sure gittin' a burden to tote!" exclaimed Dancer!
"The old man gets the treats - all we git is oats!" grumbled Vixen!
"And them lazy elves load the sleigh far too full!" griped Blitzen!
Donner complained about that upstart Rudolph with the shiny nose!
Dasher agreed, "Yeah! He's Santa's pet and that ever'one knows!"
Comet avowed, "Why don't that old poop let us fly the jet stream?"
"I'm quittin' after this ride!" said Cupid. "He just makes me steam!"
They complained about the cold weather and landing on slippery roofs,
Ice forming on their antlers and the fear of breaking their delicate hoofs!
Jouluupukki and the other elves waved and cheered as they flew away,
With sacks of dollies, trucks, bikes and coal overloaded on the sleigh!
The only thing the grumpy reindeer considered their greatest joys,
Was the privilege of delivering good cheer to all the little girls and boys!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
(c) All Rights Reserved
Categories:
disgruntled, christmas, humorous,
Form:
Rhyme
Is this thing on?
I've got something to say!
Is this thing on?
Probably no one is listening anyway!
We live in a place based on unity
Why are we having such disparity?
We can't represent without proper tools
Dissing each other is just plain cruel.
I thought we were supposed to be indivisible which means our bond can't be broken
United we stand, a truer statement has never been spoken.
Rally up for a good cause
Make your voice heard, change those terrible laws
Celebrate and Recognize we aren't all the same;
Keep the peace, make sure everyone is treated humanely
Protect our mutual assets don't play the fools
Justice and equality, protect our schools
Be careful of small eyes and small ears
Guard small hearts and calm large fears
I don't want a wall, I don't want a raid
I don't want the piper to be paid
I object to the plans of evil being laid
I don't want a war, I want peace, love and light
Injustice and hatred I will continue to fight.
I fear this boat is sinking fast
I'm taking our leaders to the task
Make good on your promises that you will protect us
Instead of hiding behind dollar signs with attempts to deflect us
Show me what you will do to save our beloved red, white and blue.
I'm tired of the rhetoric, tired of the double talk with no action
really can't get no satisfaction
I'm tired of hatred, subterfuge and lies
I want to see heart, compassion, a gentle reprise
Of the things that make this country great
clear Consciousness, love instead of hate
We are all descended from people looking for a better life and chance to be great
We need to remember this before it's too late.
The blood of our forefathers ran out as they pushed for democracy
Don't let their sacrifice be made into a mockery.
I don't agree with decisions that have yet to be made; I want a choice
I will continue to raise my voice.
Is this thing on?
I've got something to say!
We need to rally up and keep fighting for a new day.
Tides of change are coming swift and steady
I'll stand on the front lines, poised and ready
Intolerance and inhumanity I will never answer that call.
Unity, love, acceptance, unites us all.
Categories:
disgruntled, america,
Form:
Couplet
As the guests arrive, I share a pew with myself.
this wedding is a pain.
A group of boys come, students of both groom and bride;
my squinting eyes complain.
Taking their spots assigned, each conscious of his cues,
boys make me uneasy
Each wears white roses on a jacket of chartreuse;
my stomach feels queasy.
My daughter stands watch, waiting for music to start;
six voices harmonize.
She spots her groom, I sense the racing of her heart,
I see tears in her eyes.
Escorted by two teens, behind the youngest lad,
(I don’t cry at weddings.)
she saunters down the long aisle to her son’s new dad,
my Benjy has their rings.
Vows are said; rings exchanged, the final song begun,
boys with flags form an arch.
The couple, then guests tramp beneath it one by one;
this grandma does not march.
written March 27, 2017
long form - free verse; short form - rhymed
Categories:
disgruntled, 11th grade, boy, jealousy,
Form:
Rhyme
Should a pig ever get laryngitis
Well he wouldn’t be pleased in the least
For, not being able to talk to his friends
He would be such a disgruntled beast
Categories:
disgruntled, animals, friendship, funny
Form:
Light Verse
In every weary word, there is a selfish storm,
Within a blinding blurred of a formless form…
Thoughts are lost amidst the negligent nights,
Tongues are tossed upon blasphemous bites.
Cloudy confusion arises from its sacrificial still,
As the able abeyant advises the wandering will…
The silence surrenders to the drowning deluge,
For the rain remembers to release in its refuge.
Where the idealized illusions come out to play,
The stigmatic seclusions dormant in disarray…
Whirl winding whispers decay in the distance,
Amongst tangled twisters of raging resistance.
Nov.19.2019
Disarray Poetry
Sponsored by: Nina Parmenter
N/A for contest
Categories:
disgruntled, conflict, confusion, emotions,
Form:
Rhyme
There was once a recruit named Hubie Hunt,
Who hoped to fly but was told "no" so blunt,
"Sorry, you ain't qualified"
So Hubie was certified
To tote a gun as a ground poundin' grunt!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
Categories:
disgruntled, humorous, military,
Form:
Limerick
Did I not speak words of greatest import
While seeking your attention for the vote?
On my best behavior I surely did comport.
With unsavory characters I did not consort
Lest my reputation be found in the moat
Did I not speak words of greatest import?
I did my best to bring constituents comfort
Over your little ones I never failed to dote
On my best behavior I surely did comport,
When my opponent my words did contort
I held my tongue, trying hard not to quote
Did I not speak words of greatest import?
Legislative successes I was quick to report
I visited the tiniest villages, some remote
On my best behavior I surely did comport,
You turned me out with harshest retort
You even throttled my red, burning throat
Did I not speak words of greatest import?
On my best behavior I surely did comport.
written January 15, 2022
Categories:
disgruntled, humorous, political, spoken word,
Form:
Villanelle
(Or Please God, Let It Be November 7th)
Dear senators, congressmen
Please hear my plea.
Your phone calls and commercials
Mean nothing to me.
Your muck-raking and mud-slinging
Go from night until noon.
This election could never
Be over too soon
Please understand, I've made my decision.
I don't need your e-mail or phone inquisition.
So please can we just stop the attacks
And go give each other a pat on the back.
Categories:
disgruntled, funny, social, urban,
Form:
Rhyme
Eight o’clock, Eight o’clock – Children, arise.
Out in the yard you can chase butterflies!
Nine o’clock, Nine o’clock – Children don’t dawdle!
You move like a duck who can’t even waddle.
Ten o’clock, Ten o’clock – Children it’s late!
Really, I haven’t all morning to wait.
Eleven o’clock – Kids, you have to get going.
Your kites I’ve got ready. A nice breeze is blowing.
Twelve o’clock, Twelve o’clock – Children, move fast.
Already you see the morning has passed.
One o’clock, One o’clock – Lunch we are eating.
Suggestions I made do not bear repeating.
Two o’clock, Two o’clock – Now you feel full?
Your little red wagon I’d promised to pull!
Three o’clock, Three o’clock – I said ASAP.
It looks like instead you are needing a nap!
Four o’clock, Four o’clock – STILL you’re inside?
To get you in sunshine I’ve tried and I’ve tried.
Five o’clock, Five o’clock – Dad’s almost home.
Why in the wonderful woods won’t you roam?
Six o’clock, Six o’clock – Soon will be dinner.
Each of you seems like a stay-inside winner.
Seven o’clock, and the sun has gone down.
Kids, can’t you see that your mom wears a frown?
Eight o’clock, eight o’clock – all that I needed
was time for myself. My words went unheeded.
Nine o’clock, nine o’clock – Time now for bed.
That story you wanted is not getting read!
March 15, 2021
For Eve Roper's the ' Nursery Rhyme 3' Poetry Contest
(because I forgot to enter second one)
Categories:
disgruntled, children,
Form:
Rhyme
This is written in defense of the contest sponsors who are being disrespected by a 'poet' who feels his entries were not judged fairly. In separate posts, he contested their judgement. They should never be publicly harassed by a poor sport.
Someone is disgruntled and quite perturbed
so, he wrote about it. Could be he is disturbed
Got some bees buzzing around in his bonnet,
but can he rhyme the lines in a good sonnet?
I find his poetry nonsensical, and often inept
but he must think it's worthy, and so he wept
for not being a winner, a fact he can't accept.
That shows conceit and for sponsors, disrespect.
"OH, WOE IS ME," cried the sorrowful dissident.
"I'm not appreciated, and wasted time spent
writing for poorly sponsored contests and lost.
My poems were read and then they were tossed!"
He thought each entry deserved a shining star
With vengeance in mind, he decided he'd spar
with contest sponsors and called them out,
so, acting like a spoiled child, he decided to pout.
"I'll show them and give them a piece of my mind.
My poems were better than some. They're blind!
I'll even mention them all by using their name.
for not awarding me prizes and robbing me of fame."
"OH, WOE IS ME." cried the sorrowful dissident,
Upon getting even he seems to be hell bent.
I doubt that his poetry will ever make him a STAR...
The KEY to winning contests is to stop writing subpar.
Categories:
disgruntled, anger,
Form:
Rhyme
He comes to work in no such haste,
And wishes he’s some other place;
“Oh, I believe, ” he always say,
“I’m overworked and underpaid! ”
Yet for every day that Heaven made,
Still he shows up just the same.
After all, he needs the pay;
The wife must eat, anyway.
Much full of regret and reproach,
He criticizes even the mote
Of white dust on his worktable;
He denounces his superior,
And condemns the mistake-prone idiot
At the next table; he cannot
Wait for the hour’s hand to strike five,
To conjure a new-fangled lie
—For when his wife asks, “Where you been? ”—
And end the day with bitter beer.
Categories:
disgruntled, on work and working,
Form:
Light Verse
The bus is late and it is starting to rain,
when the bus arrives, you’ll be sure to complain.
The schedule said it would be there at eight,
once again you are running real late.
You dial Customer service on your cellular phone,
there is no answer and you’re feeling alone.
All you want is to hear a live person,
you can’t get through and the rain starts to worsen.
You take out your umbrella but it will not open,
it is bent out of shape and the button is broken.
Every other bus number arrives at that stop,
It will take some time for your blood pressure to drop.
At this point, you are starting to get nervous,
You begin to wonder if the bus is in service.
You have been splashed by a number of cars,
at the end of this ordeal you’ll be behind bars!
The bus finally comes but you have waited a while,
The driver opens the door and greets you with a smile.
You shout at the driver, “Where the hell have you been?”
“I don’t particularly care for your stupid little grin!”
The driver said, “Sir I’m sorry for running behind
but the rush hour traffic has been quite a grind.”
You step on the bus all soaked and wet,
you want the driver to know that you’re really upset.
You curse out the driver and create quite a scene,
You start to act ignorant, belligerent and mean.
The police arrive promptly and escort you off the bus,
there are things about that morning you need to discuss.
The Officer asked the driver, “Why did this occur?”
he said, “I was late and he became a disgruntled passenger.”
Categories:
disgruntled, forgiveness, funny, inspirational, life,
Form:
I am not inventing this disgruntled troll
Who writes nasty messages gloomy and droll
Seems unhappy with everything I prize
Glad I do not see things through her eyes
Nor do I believe everything is going to hell
If only things were her way, all would be well
Unfortunately her view of America is morose
Which she disses with poems much too verbose
Why should I sit back and allow her to scorn
Without response to her pitiful political p**n?
But I do, yes…I do restrain myself most often
I am sure she would like me laid in my coffin
Lately she is disgruntled with a current event
And takes the opportunity to open her vent
I won't say her name, but, you'll get the hint
Too bad, tsk, tsk, tsk, she isn’t our president!
written September 7, 2021
Categories:
disgruntled, conflict, feelings, how i
Form:
Quatrain
The Gods created music
so poets would not have to talk.
The dramatic or moody warblers
stood forth.
Now we had a sing-song mouth
for the scribes.
You’d think that both singers and writers
would be content to plaster the page and air
with these heaven-sent arts,
but
no,
poets sulked, grew sullen
their egos swollen to an eighth degree.
None could not be silent,
And so they invented ‘slam’ and ‘jam’
and every which way
to yells at us -
as if anyone gave a damn.
Categories:
disgruntled, poetry,
Form:
Free verse