Best Full Of Hot Air Poems | Poetry
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The Best Full Of Hot Air Poems
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Full Of Hot Air Poem
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Full of hot air
Cool to the touch
Want to jump up and scream
Why don't you use silence as the golden rule
and sit down
Want to go left
But rights the only right away
Want to paint the town in grey
Who needs colour anyway
You find yourself higher than a kite
But than again as lower than a slug
Broken brain
Fix with glue
Filling your pockets with change
Just to find out that everything stayed the same
Red with anger
Green with envy
Let the darkness foreshadow your thinking
Lights to bright
No ideas
To racing thoughts
Walk up right
Run away
Who needs circles when you can have squares
Seniors and babies are the same
except for age, wear diapers, eat soft foods and have no teeth
Miss Miya
Like
Copyright © Miya Fontaine | Year Posted 2014
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Full Of Hot Air Poem
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Mary Skit was full of hot air
She was a balloon to be fair
She ate turnip
Checked her burn up
And swooshed to the sky body bare
Copyright © RAJAT KANTI CHAKRABARTY | Year Posted 2015
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Full Of Hot Air Poem
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had no breakfast today
but somehow i'll make it
in the usual way
when it comes to hunger
i can take it
at work everything is wonderful
everything is fine
the weather is cool
and bright is the sun shine
no worries what ever
my face has a smile
driving along my mind
drifts for a while
and then it hits me
like a thunderbolt
lighting on the inside
from somewhere in my stomach
straight to my backside
you know that feeling
you know what it is
stomach churning
bubbling bad
something is yearning
and needs to go fast
before i know it
i'm full of hot air
i want to let it go
but i do not dare
look for the box
they call johnny on the spot
but when i get there
the door was locked
standing out side and holding it tight
no matter what their doing
i'm gonna lose this fight
and then it happens
what nature fought to get through
now tell me honestly
has this ever happened to you
Copyright © John Loving III | Year Posted 2012
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Full Of Hot Air Poem
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When I awoke, I took a breath
And then another.
I couldn’t help myself;
I think I’m addicted.
I think I’m addicted,
To air.
Just yesterday I took 22,500 breaths.
I didn’t waste any though;
I took them one at a time.
But it wasn’t always like this,
I think the habit started when I was very young.
Back then, we liked to hold our breath a lot,
Sometimes to get what we wanted;
Sometimes for the fun of it.
And when we ran around playing tag,
We had to catch our breath, a lot.
I think our breath liked to wait
Until we were done playing, before coming back.
But our problem got worse when our parents yelled,
“Go outside and get some fresh air!”
So we went out, and like the punks we were,
We went around the backside of the barn,
Which, I admit, had some really 'fresh' air.
Back there, we inhaled the stuff.
Yes, I said it. We inhaled.
We inhaled as much air as we could get.
Then we’d go inside, feeling good and all,
And as soon as we said something,
They’d yell at us again,
“You’re so full of hot air!”
Well I didn’t think that was true,
But then I realized,
When you’re addicted to air,
It turns hot. Real Hot.
When I was in high school
The addiction got worse.
It got so bad, that the kids called us
Air heads.
It was true. We got high on the stuff
Day and night.
I’m not proud of my addiction,
But I’m still alive to talk about it.
I tried joining AA;
You know, Air Anonymous,
But was kicked out
When they caught me and a friend
Outside snorting the stuff.
I tried to tell them that we both
Had a bad cold,
But it didn’t matter.
Anyways, today I’m going to try
To turn over a new leaf.
I’m not promising any miracles,
But I’m going to breath deep,
Hold it for a couple seconds,
And then exhale.
Who knows, I may be able to cut
This habit down to 18,500 breaths a day
In no time.
Copyright © David Fisher | Year Posted 2013
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Full Of Hot Air Poem
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Now the razamataz is over
Looks like Trump is next in line.
If he does what he is proclaiming
Everything will be just fine
If like his name*
He is full of hot air like a deflating balloon
Then “God Bless America” comes to mind
Not just America we’re sure to find.
Must give the man a chance
He is a millionaire by right
Must have had some brain to acquire this
Just that cell doesn’t glow so bright
Please Mister President stop putting your foot in it
Think before opening wide
I will raise my glass to you Donald Trump
At the end of office, you can then say
“I Tried”
Penned 9 November 201
*To trump is to break wind
Copyright © Seren Roberts | Year Posted 2016
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Full Of Hot Air Poem
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In any law school, it is the first lesson taught
And not one of us should ever forget
A man with his hands tied, can still kick you on the chin
The bigger they are, the harder they fall cannot be forgot
Sometimes a long shot is the best bet
A sure thing is not always a sure win
The down and out with a prayer, is a super human
Don't judge a book by it's cover, it needs to be read
The rich will live high, in tough times will not survive
A wounded animal is no match for any man
Before you sleep, make sure you know your bed
That is if you want to stay alive
A barking dog is loud, the under dog has a fatal bite
When the weak get strong, the strong get weak
Blow hards are always full of hot air
And not left standing at the end of a honest fight
A body with no soul, has no mercy to seek
Much less any kind of prayer
Beaten, nailed to a cross, then rose from the dead
So that one day he will save us all
Wears the crown of crowns on his head
He can cure all of Satan's conspiracies
If you don't listen, you will take the fall
Never under estimate your adversaries
Copyright © Danny Nunn | Year Posted 2010
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Full Of Hot Air Poem
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Up, up and away they said,
as they sailed over the blue and the red,
hugging each other and holding on tight,
the Donald and Hillary on election night,
For my sore eyes got my binoculars out,
I followed their moves in the sky, no doubt,
both of them full of hot air in the balloon,
living it up before it ended too soon,
And then there was a paradigm shift in the wind,
the hot air balloon started to descend,
the frenemy's in the basket a case,
they both realized they were done in the race,
Driving up to meet the both of them,
they both exclaimed it had been a lot of fun,
but while on the wild ride they did a flip flop,
Hillary now Republican, Donald now Democrat,
With most of the votes counted and tallied up,
Hillary and the Donald watched the electoral map,
like a horse race derby for a long while neck to neck,
neither one of them seemed to do a double check,
Because they both knew when all was said and done,
like two actors in a play the election outcome,
The Donald already smiling and striking a pose,
like in a horse derby race beating Hillary by a nose.
11-8-16
Copyright © cheryl hoffman | Year Posted 2016
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Full Of Hot Air Poem
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A black cloud bleating
Over a trembling tree top
Calls swallows to play.
2
Wet thunder drums light
On the sizzled skin of air
My lungs beat like wings
3
This is September
Neptune's children play with glee
On earth's anxiety
4
Africa's revenge
Is full of hot air driving
The sea to black rage
5
The winds come dancing
The funeral song of trees
Silenced in the clouds
6
The storm turns its eye
Into the sun's white vortex
And shed some black tears
7
A lone swallow flies
Skipping spindles of loud rain
Etched upon my eyes.
Copyright © David Smalling | Year Posted 2010
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Full Of Hot Air Poem
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PLASTIC BAG: THE SAGA CONTINUES
Yes, they laughed at him, full of hot air, but he died trying.
It’s easy to forget that - it seems -
Plastic bags too have ambitions, careers, dreams.
He was ready and waiting for a slight opening . . . anything.
Saw Dick Whittington with his bag full of potential;
Inspired by Mary Poppins’ magic bag so special ;
Noted the bank paper-money in reinforced bags commercial;
Those doctors’ bags for the sick – so beneficial.
Door ajar one day, wind of change lifted his spirit -
He took his chance: he challenged the system :
Could be more than a plastic wrapper menacing the ecosystem.
Chance favors the prepared: his ambition was transparent.
The others were cautious, rappers singing of life in the crapper.
His life was limited to apple-wrap : made him sick
Listening to other wrappers’ mundane earth-bound music -
Most despondent of all is an apple-wrapper rapper.
On his death-bed he did not regret his attempt:
Ok - it ended in a downdraft and muddle,
Sinking in the dog crap puddle;
But I’d do it again he cried, if someone should tempt.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
NOTE
This is the second in a series of supermarket-plastic-bag-wrapper poems
dedicated to a particular apple-wrapper which escaped in the high winds
of St. Petersburg, Russia. The first in the series was ILLUSIONS OF GRANDEUR.
Copyright © Sidney Beck | Year Posted 2011
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Full Of Hot Air Poem
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Trapped in my mind, taking refuge from scurge who annoy me.
Mouths move, words understood but sentences simply defeat me.
Over my head like live ammunition a garbled blurb shoots out a round.
The talk I hear must be important from the nods and expressions I see.
I try to engage, say something clever but I'm out of my depth in this room.
All eyes on me, "be confident man" my inner self tells my good self.
So I speak of the graphs and figures projected but have no idea what they mean.
A silence then follows, then a few nods, nobody in this room has a clue.
It's full of hot air, boardroom bravado and who can talk the most gibberish.
With poker faces and arrogance aplenty my time in that room makes me sick.
The nausea continues week after week, next time I'm chairing the Board!
Copyright © Rob Carter | Year Posted 2014
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Full Of Hot Air Poem
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7/26/17
Going to the top of the stairs
And it's not going to stop there
Don't be full of hot air
Or you will not have a prayer
Occasionally thunderstruck
Going in and out the cut
Staying up
Instead of stuck
From dawn to dusk
Ongoing for such and such
Ashes to ashes, dust to dust
Staying grounded
Time to reach the peak of another mountain
Where the view has always astounded
Skies that are clear or clouded
Areas that are empty or overcrowded
Nearby and far away from any water fountain
Blood turned it into a red glove
A whole step above
More hate and less love
Won't bend or budge
Unwilling to end the grudge
Some just can't put it to rest, until they've won
Copyright © Dalton Ogletree | Year Posted 2017
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Full Of Hot Air Poem
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2/23/18
On me you'd tittle tattle
Too often you told me fiddle-faddle
Now you're beginning to unravel
Can't even handle
Your own battle
And are being used an example
For what happens when you pull a scandal
You told me claptrap
It's time I speed off on you like Amtrak
Time I rise like Nasdaq
And get the better hand in blackjack
You told me nonstop
Hog wash
And got caught
When you talked bosh
Near endless drivel
You often told me piffle
You don't know how to play the fiddle
Or how to make a missile
Hola
You're full of
Crapola
You haven't been on a gondola
Or ever used a bola
And still drive a Corolla
You told me tommyrot
And I knew right away, at a coffee shop
When you kept spewing poppyc...
I knew you were as useful as a soggy sock
What you say is disregarded
You told me garbage
Never once did you get involved in carnage
Or end up in an area that was uncharted
Between you and me there is a difference
You continually told me gibberish
With ignorance
And everyone got sick of it
You kept telling bunk
And selling junk
Thinking your **** never stunk
Now everyone thinks of you as a punk
Whose ship is sunk
Don't try to apologize
It's no suprise
I could see it in your eyes
You told me lies
Which wasn't wise
And quickly led to your demise
As well as you rotting beside the flies
Seeing right through the suspense
Playing both sides of the fence
At your own expense
You told me nonsense
Hence the cost for you was immense
You told me nothing but bulls...
Next thing I knew you did bite the bullet
The same old spiel
You told me you were real
Then from me you tried to steal
After that ordeal
I soon saw you keel
User beware
I always knew life wasn't fair
You told me you would be right there
And when **** hit the fan, I didn't see you anywhere
Yet another one full of hot air
I guess they didn't have a prayer
Since they fell into a pit of despair
You told me nothing but malarkey
And for that you'll be sorry
Smells like you stepped in dookie
Never once spoke truly
You told me phooey
You've never fired an uzi
Except for on Call of Duty
Now excuse me
I'm going to take advantage of opportunity
Make money, and possibly spend it foolishly
Like I do usually
As a matter of fact
You told me you had my back
Then set me up in a trap
In hopes that I would get whacked
Typical, pitiful crap
Seen all over the map
It all was an act
By another rat
Who was taken out fast
Buried underneath stones, dirt, and grass
Copyright © Dalton Ogletree | Year Posted 2018
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Full Of Hot Air Poem
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PLASTIC BAG MEETS TERMINATOR
I give the illusion of strength and security
But I’m only plastic-moulded and mostly empty of all thought,
Full of hot air and entirely transparent:
And I’m afraid that I can’t act,
Said the bag to Arnie
Or said Arnie to the bag.
Copyright © Sidney Beck | Year Posted 2011
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Full Of Hot Air Poem
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Pay attention little boy, since school is now in session.
I am sure that you have shown me that you need this little lesson.
You are the student. I am the teacher. Time to act like you know it,
And pledge all of your allegance to DOC the Poet.
I went over all of your slams with a new red pen,
Then I gave them back for you to do all over again.
You really need to learn how to take your time when you rhyme,
Because at the rate that you are going, you have a big hill to climb.
For some strange reason, you act as if your slams are sublime,
Which is why you are locked up, because the way that you write is a crime.
You came into this game kicking up a big fuss,
But will leave like another lame, who has to take the short bus.
Since you were so slow, I had your mother put you on medication,
And she sent you to the doctor without any hesitation.
I came at you with an assault on your right and on your left,
Then I stood from afar and watched as you peed on yourself.
Whorelock, even you have to realize by now
The possibilities of you winning are no way, no chance, and no how!
When I saw your last slam, all that I could say was "Wow,
The next thing that this guy needs to be saying is 'CIAO'."
I have to ask, "Are you even trying to get better?"
You should follow my lead, since I am the new trend setter.
I can't take you seriously, which is why I slam you for fun.
I could never ever be defeated, since I am the chosen one.
Follow your lead? Boy, you have no lead to follow.
Now I know that your defeat has been mighty hard to swallow.
Your head is hollow or just full of hot air.
I rhyme with flare, but you rhyme like you don't even care.
When ever you read my rhymes, you need to stop, look, and stare,
Since this battle between you and me is not even fair.
Copyright © dakarai cobb | Year Posted 2011
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Full Of Hot Air Poem
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I Thought it was my turn, well I guess it aint.
Wish I could have played my cards, but I guess I can’t
I was working with all trumps like Donald, we was goin win so who cares.
But you thought all I was concerned with was the two pair.
I was ready to play the deck. Not ready to play the mess.
You tryin to play the curve. But I can’t play the catch.
Willin to play the game, play it right and play the role.
Willin to say the same, say it right and say my role.
But ya questions of the lessons is stressing
Don’t lay the heart on the table if clubs led: Message.
Play the suit and listen wit ya eyes and not wit your lobes
Believe none of what you hear and half of what you know.
If you goin play wit a partner trust that they’ll come through.
Play the queen of spades, you get beat be sure I’ll play the deuce.
All that I ask is that you don’t question what I do.
Even if I got a hand full of possible’s I’m still goin make it do what it do.
I’m a card player, so workin wit an unsure partner aint goin flow.
If I aint hype about the hand don’t mean I aint got the O.
The worst thing you could do to the champ is say he full of hot air.
Go there? Not there? I’m the king; I’ll show you how I got Heir.
Get me a new partner, got you askin why I’m not there.
But we’ll end the game at a stalemate, cause its stale mate.
Had to play it wrong, played it too long now a break I shale take.
Copyright © Courtney Allen | Year Posted 2005
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Full Of Hot Air Poem
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I'd rather be a hillbillie
than a bybillie or blowbillie
to try to be all three, you see
would drive me to insanity.
Bybillies are skittishy and shy
seldom stay, always say "goodbye"
they never joke, don't even try
just mumble, complain, whine and cry.
Hillbillies are fun and fancy free
can run as far as you can see
may be poor, ain't got no teeth
but that don't bother them in the least.
I'd rather be a hillbillie
than a bybillie or blowbillie
and climb the hills and know the land
and laugh and hunt to "shoot the band".
Blowbillies are too puffed up
have big mouths, can't keep 'em shut
boast and brag, often disrupt
full of hot air, they look quite stuffed.
Hillbillies love to dance and sing
know how to play the fiddle and swing
and love to roam the fields in spring
I'd rather be a hillbillie more than anything!
Written on 4/14/2018
For Hillbillies, Bybillies, Blowbillies contest
l
Copyright © Laura Leiser | Year Posted 2018
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Full Of Hot Air Poem
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FESTER BLOWHARD
Uncle Fester’s full of hot air.
He blows up at Frida Fayre.
An unfair and dark fellow,
Blowhard farts into a cello.
Freckled Frida just so feckless with her flute.
Her thin lips and puckered cheeks softly toot.
Fester fosters a hot-air balloon.
Frantically blows out his old bassoon.
Frida nervously nettles her fingers to pray.
Fester’s balloon bollixed, hellfire to pay.
6/25/2017
LIGHT POETRY
A Light To Like judged 7/28
Contest: Poem N/A'd from June to August
Copyright © Kim Rodrigues | Year Posted 2017