Best Gloat Poems
When I leave this world
It won’t be silently
NO, I will leave behind a note
A note of reproach
For the sin of humanity
In the inability to feel with…to feel for
To truly love
Another human being
Who has the curse of being….
Different
When I leave this world
My words I’ll behind
To a world that was unkind
To a world that only loved
Cookie cutter shapes and sizes
A world with a status quo
That couldn’t be tampered with
A world that embraced
The lovely
The beautiful
The happy….oh the happy
Those with perpetual smiles
With lilting voices of angels
And with beauty of the ages
Those worthy of love
Serene angelic doves
Who never felt despair
But were always bright and fair
When I leave this world
I will leave behind
A legacy for those
Who were unloved
Who didn’t have sound minds
Who struggled along the way
Who tried to be beautiful
Who tried to smile
Through ripped and aching hearts
Who tried to stay afloat
When others would just gloat
Those who tried to be brave
But longed for the grave
To those I will say
“You are beautiful
You are worthy
You are precious
You are priceless
Your mind though tormented
Is full of beautiful treasure
Don’t blame yourself
For not being able to fit
In this selfish and crazy world
You are not a misfit
The world is unable
To make itself fit
To the dazzling beauty of you
So, just do what it takes
Just do what it takes
To get through the pain
To get to tomorrow
Maybe, maybe
You’ll hear my voice
Whisper to you in the breeze
Telling you to make the world
A better place
A more caring place
Because of YOU!"
Eileen Manassian Ghali
Love
By Dane Smith-Johnsen
Love approaches and does not scare.
Love bears and does not let go.
Love cares and does not shrink.
Love declares and does not shun.
Love establishes and does not tear down.
Love forgives and does not remind.
Love gives and does not expect.
Love has and does not gloat.
Love hears and does not tell.
Love hopes and does not give up.
Love instills and does not corrupt.
Love joins and does not run over.
Love keeps and does not stray.
Love lives and does not stress.
Love manages and does not control.
Love persuades but does not discourage.
Love proclaims and does not hide.
Love questions and does not badger.
Love rejoices and does not displease.
Love sees and does not condemn.
Love talks and does not defame.
Love understands and does not misconstrue.
Love values and does not insult.
Love wants and does not ignore.
Love XOXOXOX and does not reject.
Love yearns, and does not insist.
Love zaps, and does not destroy.
LET US LOVE ONE ANOTHER.
They say that words are cheap,
Yet I differ,
Diamonds, Gold, are costly,
Words? Much costlier.
Words of peace and kindness
Can heal a heart of blindness,
For souls that somehow
Could not see,
Hearts and souls of others
Throughout Humanity.
Humble words, soft spoken,
Which made the hearer sigh,
Words like keys to human hearts,
To hear the orphan's cry.
Words can also break a heart,
But worse, can break a soul,
The cost of this weighs heavy
For those who pay that toll.
Words more costly than
Diamonds adorning
A queen's throat,
Or devastation's rampant, of
A tyrant's words of gloat.
Words spoken in harshness,
Can break a child's heart,
But gentle word's of friendship
Help that child heal in part.
They say that words are cheap,
I totally differ,
Diamonds, Gold, are costly,
But...
Words much Costlier.
I hate it that you don't like what I write
You'd think at least one time I'd get it right
I get first place with others, never you
Won't join another one, that's what I will do
Consistently put down, oh what a drain!
I find your selectivity a pain!
Most others think my writes are pretty cool
But when I write for you, I'm just a fool
Well, here's to let you know that I am done
Cause entering your contests sure ain't fun
I squeeze my brain in hopes to win your smile
But I get tossed right out on rubbish pile
I'll gloat and savor every winning place
From one to three are ones that light my face
From 4 on down, you freaking kidding me????
Dear contest sponsor, you are HISTORY!
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Dear contest sponsor, you are HISTORY!
I bet you wonder at this mystery
You think you've judged me fair, and that's my place
I'm glad that you can't see my "murder" face!
I'll let you off the hook; here's one more chance
The genre I like the most is sweet romance
So, let me gush and flow and write a storm
You know my write will be above the norm!
If my write doesn't place in 1, 2, 3....
I'll tell you, sponsor dear, you've messed with me
In cyber world, I have my goons who check
They'll find your place and then, Oh...what the heck!
You'll get a pounding that you won't forget
You'll get your own N/A and that's a bet!
It stands for Nuked/Alright, and you'll be fried
So give me that first place, or run and hide!!!!!
For Famous Last Line Contest
March 11, 2016
Sponsor: Laura Loo
Original poem title: Confounded Contest
For Jerry's Contest Contest!
January 5, 2015
(Giving voice to those who suffered and believe in poetic justice)
Should I cut the corner of your coat?
Too many times you tried to squeeze my throat;
you got perverse pleasure to see my page blank,
thought I have overdrawn the polyglot’s bank.
I saw your glee, you thought I went to flee,
you did not understand, my spirit was in command.
Without ascendancy you appointed yourself as judge,
still I chose not to bear a grudge.
Like David, my sins are uncovered,
like him I never devoured
Nathan; he was not sent by Satan.
He was sent by Him, against Whom all have sinned.
Yet you aimed to shame and then denied,
thought you caught me by surprise and caused my demise.
You have conveniently overlooked my word,
I have confessed and made my peace with the Lord.
Who sent you? You are not a messenger of peace,
Your truth doesn’t set free but spreads strife and disease.
You are not a prophet; are you the false king’s puppet?
I saw Fate throw the dice,
so now you are uncovered before my eyes;
but like David, I too will kill hatred with love,
he was content to cut the corner of Saul’s robe.
An eye for an eye? It won’t make me smile to see you die,
I will not honor vengeful games with my name.
Now, I release myself from all the hurt you’ve caused
and claim God’s gift; He who knows me more than most,
denies you satisfaction to silence my thoughts.
I am forgiven.
Through His grace I forgive you seventy times seven,
on your downfall you won’t see me gloat;
I refuse to even cut the corner of your coat.
From: 1 Samuel 24; 2 Samuel 12:1-13 and Matthew 5: 21-22
Inspired by Olive Eloisa's Theme: Not for contest
Poem of the Day - 04 January, 2016
Come by the Sword, Die by the Sword
They stood in ranks a thousand long
High upon the hill
The Roman legion, fierce and strong
With sword and lance and bill
The Briton hoards below them stare
With wild fanatic eyes
They jeer the foe and beg them dare
With anger and despise
Come and fight you cowardly foe
Come and meet your fate
We’ll cut you down, row by row
Send you to heavens gate
With scoff and scorn the Romans yawn
What empty threats you speak
We’ll rip you limb from limb this morn
You’re scrawny, thin and weak
Down below, laughter roars
Your bellies, we will slice
We’ll lay you dead, in your scores
Come prove your men not mice
We will arrive and make you pay
For indolence and taunt
You will eat every word you say
When they come back to haunt
It’s easy up on high to gloat
But everybody knows
It’s our intent to cut each throat
And leave you for the crows
But when we make our move towards
There’ll be no shy nor rests
We’ll plunge our sharp and bloody swords
Deep in those ragbag chests
Think of your girlfriends, mothers, wives
For them there’ll be no gains
Will be, as we, cut short their lives
When we spill out your brains
For one last time you’ll see the sky
Cause you’re not leaving whole
When heathen head is raised up high
On legion victory pole
Gasp deep upon your final breath
Invader of our land
Your destiny this day is death
By rude and brutish hand
With sword and lance and bill
All break into their stride
With voices booming still
Blood fills the wide divide
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March forward to today
Though forces re-arranged
And ask them in what way
Anything has changed
A clinging coolness in the morning air
Makes boyhood autumns live once more—
Blue-ribbon produce at the county fair,
Father trimming a newly sticking door.
Walking to school on frost-crusted leaves,
I worry about what awaits me in fifth grade.
Water dripping from icicles hanging on eaves
Temporarily distracts me from being afraid.
I develop a crush on my teacher, Miss Hales.
She stirs something mysterious inside me.
It’s clear in this season I will face new trails,
Including the allurement of a grown-up she.
Peers make light of the patches on my coat
Lovingly stitched by my Mother one night.
I find it unseemly they are wont to gloat,
But they are unaware of my family’s plight.
Radio was the rage during my tender years.
I ran home after school to hear more and more
Spoken by heroes who vanquished all fears.
While real heroes were dying in the gore of war.
Autumn’s advent brings a flurry of emotions.
They happen like snowfall year after year.
I smile at them now, noting boyish notions,
But morning air leads me to hold them dear.
Sand in sheets
scuffing skin and reminding
last nights attire reaks like bonfire
a hundred days like this
a sea of endless laughs rolling
like filmreels infinitely looped fantastic
Their cars rolled in, shiney and pretentious
personalized plates waxed clever wit
crowding this small town to gloat in sand-side castles
Yacht club yucks shelling bucks like bayou crayfish
condescending, fun loving, brash Chicago touristas
Bless their daughters who filed in sassy
chin up, chest out trustafarians
scents of coconut lotion and clinique perfume
wafting through our warm lake breeze reality
Giddy and loving our rough edged style
intending to slum with townies, like we minded...
smiles glowing in those bonfire nights
mischievious and promising...
Every action thereafter defied catholic school education
...benificiaries of repression rebellion...like we minded!
Lake Michigan was paces from my bedroom window
These sparrow serenaded mornings..
...morphing into something amphibious
when the alewives were raked, we lay lazy
Bodies melted into sand~~ sated with sun
splashing back to cool off in sandbars
coolers anchored in those cool waters
taking long pulls off a perspiring Heineken
Beach days concluded with seagulls off to hunt
Squaking as they ascended into pink and orangecicle skies
The water shimmered like a million illuminated snakes
...side winding-mirrored the suns final say
Couples pulled up to Harbor landing to see the show
heads melted into one mass in windshields all around
lovers seeing nature's beauty more vibrant as lovers do...
The sunset brings a new purple backdrop
squaks are replaced with crickets chirps
Bright-then-fading green...BRIGHT-then fading green
Children gathered fireflies in jars laughing
Ice cream stained faces aglow with captive glee
Then to black and star filled, became the sky
we returned to cooler sand pushing between our toes
scurrying through dunegrass seeking driftwood and brush
creating a structure to take to flame...a science for proud boyscouts
There we gathered with newfound gals from cross lake 'burbs
sunrise would end our night tonight...awaking to lifeguards scolding.
Inspired by John Heck's Summer Contest!!
For the second time in memory,
We’re faced with the ironic
When we look at an election
More divisive than harmonic.
Though the states made their decisions
And Republicans can gloat,
Seems the Democrat, the loser,
Won the “popular” (ha!) vote.
Something’s wrong with such a picture.
If the population’s voice
Does unite in its selection
We should, thus, respect that choice.
So we end up with a president,
Unpopular at best,
Leaving more than half the country
Pessimistic and depressed.
I hate it that you don't like what I write
You'd think at least one time I'd get it right
I get first place with others, never you
Won't join another one, that's what I will do
Consistently put down, oh what a drain!
I find your selectivity a pain!
Most others think my writes are pretty cool
But when I write for you, I'm just a fool
Well, here's to let you know that I am done
Cause entering your contests sure ain't fun
I squeeze my brain in hopes to win your smile
But I get tossed right out on rubbish pile
I'll gloat and savor every winning place
From one to three are ones that light my face
From 4 on down, you freaking kidding me????
Dear contest sponsor, you are HISTORY!
A....HA HA HA HA HA HA!!!!!
For Jerry's Contest Contest!
January 5, 2015
Her chopsticks are at the ready.
Her hands are good and steady.
She likes to knit her noodles!
The task has just begun...
She starts off with a mango Welt
With pride, with zest, with tang.
It's a mesmerising watch
While the wiggling noodles hang.
Next. She's on to saucy Stocking Stitch.
Her garment sure does grow!
Knit one - Purl one - Knit two together
On each tasty row.
And this main course is called
" Knit Purl Chopstick Cha "
With a curry Cabled centre,
With sides of paprika Purl and Knit korma.
And as an extra taste-bud treat
BBQ Rib Raglan is on the menu.
Trust me! This kind of cuisine
Can't be found in any old venue!
From there on, the sleeves do drop
Like the soy sauce shaken a top.
Neatly Knitted are the Ribs.
Who voted for fish and chips?
To finish this fine course...
Knit - Slip - Knit - Pass Slip Stitch over.
This will make the button holes
For the Cadbury chocolate to melt all over.
And on completion, these knitted noodles
Slide straight on down her throat...
Before we've had a chance to prove her skill
This talent to others gloat!
Puttin on the Ritz - Just for You
Remember when I used to be dead broke,
and everyone laughed cause my dreams were a big joke?
Well I married a rich fellow and I’m rolling in dough.
Now I’m puttin on the ritz – it’s time for my show.
Visiting the old neighborhood, I’m sure feeling grand,
showing off my chauffeured Rolls Royce just because I can.
Watch me strut ‘cause I’ve been blessed by Lady Luck;
while you’re still frying chicken for a measly buck.
Oh, forgive me for I don’t always like to gloat;
but do check out my genuine animal print fur coat.
It’s no secret that Neiman Marcus is my main go-to store,
providing me with designer hats, purses, shoes, and more.
As for my fabulous make-up, make-over, and hairdo,
well they cost much more than you earn in a month or even two.
I see you’re ogling my sparkling jewelry and accessories,
Dahling, they were purchased exclusively from Tiffany’s.
Like leading ladies, Lombard, Rogers, Garbo, and Garland,
I ball room dance and jive to Callaway, Ellington, and Armstrong.
My oh my, indeed this lifestyle can make one become so giddy,
while gliding and sliding to these tunes can be quite heady.
I know jealousy is considered really uncouth and uncool,
but in your case, Sweetie, go ahead, it’s actually okay to drool.
Oh please note, my dear, I’m only passing through,
from Lenox Avenue back home to hoity-toity Park Avenue.
So for now, I'm here puttin on the ritz - just for you!
08-25-2015
Contest: Puttin on The Ritz
Sponsor: Judy Konos
Placement: 1st
WHEN I’M AN OLD LADY (many happy returns)
When I’m an old lady, I’ll live with my son,
To look after his mum is sure to be fun,
The joy it brings him, will thrill him to find,
He is able to share his home and be kind.
Of course I‘ll expect to live there rent free,
The same as he did when living with me.
I’ll raid the fridge, leave a mess of ice-cream,
Sneaking his chocolate, Cadbury’s white Dream.
I’ll go out with friends and party till morning,
Only come home when a new day is dawning.
After showering, I’ll leave clothes on the floor,
No one will see them, behind the closed door.
If sometimes I’m told to tidy my room,
Pick up my clothes and try using a broom,
I’ll hide everything, way under the bed,
After that effort, play loud music instead.
Whenever my friends come home with me,
I’ll suggest they all stay and have tea;
My son’s wife won’t mind, may give me a look,
I’ll prime them to tell her she’s a great cook.
His car I will use on Saturday and Sunday,
I’m sure he won’t mind, he can use it on Monday.
Not bothering to buy any petrol you see,
I’m always broke he has more money than me.
If I need extra dollars, I’ll borrow from my son,
Knowing he loves helping his kind loving mum.
I’ll forget to return it, may only be about twenty,
I doubt he would miss it, I know he has plenty.
I’ll hog the TV, by hiding the remote,
Then watch all my soapies, and silently gloat.
My son thinks he’s much smarter than me,
But I’ve been around a lot longer than he!
When I feel tired and fall asleep in my chair,
With mouth opened wide, and tussled grey hair,
I’m sure he’ll look at me with eyes almost weeping,
Thinking how peaceful it is when I’m sleeping.
…when I’m an old lady and live with my son.
Copyright © Vivien Wade 1989
Republicans and Democrats, democracy’s a joke.
Capitalism is the key to how our engine’s stoked.
The rich swap hats and argue that they know what’s best for folk
The corporations buy House and Senate, then they sit back and gloat.
Election laws guarantee the wealthy keep their poke,*
Republicans and Democrats, democracy’s a joke.
We have the vote, they say and so Democracy makes us free
But surely they’ve not bamboozled the likes of you and me.
We know to vote is useless since money’s the only key
Justice takes a back seat to political debaucheries.
Like we believe they're different what do they think we smoke?
Republicans and Democrats, democracy’s a joke.
* Poke - a pouch or bag used by a cowboy
to carry his "possibles" (small personal items).
(Derived from the French word poche, meaning a pocket or bag.)
Also used as cowboy slang for sex.
Halloween - Jeepers Creepers
Zany zombies lumber and stumble on streets,
as vain vampires stalk for bloody treats.
Syrupy blood oozes from water faucets,
and gory goonies crawl out of cob-webbed closets.
Best time of year for the terrifying undead,
with menacing monsters lurk under every child's bed.
Ghastly ghouls and fearsome ghosts appear,
while ominous shadows with red eyes hover and glare.
Wily witches with dark demons gleefully gloat,
and sorrowful souls suffer in purgatory and float.
Too late for confession -
no chance for absolution.
No one can hear your soundless screams,
for this is much worse than your worst nightmarish dreams.
There’s no escape from this unholy hell.
This is where eternal dread dwell!