Best Gloat Poems
We knaves had orders both explicit and dumb:
Scare the blazes out of a management bum.
Thunderstorm weather rocked wide Prince William Sound,
Feisty gales pouring rain all around.
My partner and I took our overseer
In a tiny smoker craft quite rough to steer.
Motoring south, mighty gusts drove us to shore
We staved off sandstone rocks with long wooden oars.
Back to the channel against gusts we did plow.
Our passenger sat white-knuckled in the bow.
We rounded the curve of our wind whipped north shore
To enter Danger Island Strait's tidal bore.
Roller coaster billows rose twenty feet high
Then dropped into wallows roofed only by sky
At bottom our boat swirled among kelp and rocks
Our passenger appeared as a stunned ox.
Through the passage stood our island’s south cliff face
Pacific waves raged, clawing cliffs to deface.
Our passenger’s eyes set to leap into space,
My partner asked about a smooth landing place.
Sad faced I said, “High tide is still hours away
No place for our boat above the surf today.”
Our passengers’ face seemed as if borax bleached
Praying our tiny craft was soon to be beached.
We rocked and rolled daring Danger Island’s sway
Then motored up our channel, heading camp’s way
We fought the frenzied wind and staved off the rocks
Our management friend quietly clutched his socks.
Nodding, we grinned sideways as if to gloat
As we bailed our boat simply to stay afloat.
But when ornery orcas bumped our frail boat
One gave us the eye; we croaked cries from tight throats.
Our urban client raced to the cook tent door.
While we pulled our craft above the tidal bore.
When we got to the tent for our rum and tea
Our client had downed high proof rums one, two, three.
Still grotesquely afloat
Belly ready to bloat
His last meal A Milked Oat
And then hard rowed a boat
But with a shot was downed
And the next thing was drowned!
His harsh look watchers note
And at it his foes gloat
And ample time devote
The perplexed by A Quote
He could not learn by rote …
Nor read what scholars wrote.
Rather in love with oat
And enthused about coat …
Now, helpfully The Drowned
For Book-free underground.
What life is this when all is not enough?
Each goal achieved precurses one more need
And worldly goods, my bloated ego bluff,
Enslaving me in this sad selfish greed.
The thrill of each success soon flashes past.
Eyes focus then on some new gleaming prize,
Spurred on by hunger, it is mine at last!
I gloat, but then the fire within me dies.
As on wheel’s rim my life flies ever round,
Endures the highs and lows of ev’ry turn.
Desire my master, it does but confound
All logic, yet my tortured senses burn.
Achievements such as these, so dearly bought,
Bring not the love nor happiness I sought.
I'm God's child
And in God I
Can gloat.
I refuse to
Follow any
Other and
Be anyone's
Scapegoat.
In God there is
No failure.
I'm a winner,
And no lame
Excuse for
Anyone who
Is cold as a
Blustery winter.
I'm God's child
And in God I
Can gloat.
I refuse to
Follow any
Other and
Be anyone's
Scapegoat.
wrote 11-23-10
Should Dina Gloat
Dina’s story starts with, Should I gloat or not.
For more than thirty years Dina lived at her address in a first floor flat. Her neighbour above her gave her no trouble. It was hard to tell if he was in or not, he was so quiet. Her neighbour suddenly fell ill and left the property and within weeks he moved out.
The flat was empty for a few weeks while the landlord was refurbishing it.
All of a sudden, someone moved in. The amount of thudding, noise, and loud music coming from the flat was horrendous. Dina went upstairs to ask the new neighbour not to make so much noise. It was a woman she apologized and said it won’t happen again. Dina thought that was the end. When the woman upstairs invited men round the thudding got louder and this went on for weeks. Even when Dina used the bathroom the thudding and crashing of heavy objects didn’t stop. It was then she realised that the woman was a drug addict and did drugs nearly all day. The only people that would come to her flat were drug addicts doing drugs. The smashing of heavy objects onto the ceiling went on for months. The authorities didn’t do anything. If Dina complained to the landlord the thudding would be worse to the point of jumping up and down on the roof.
Eventually one day while Dina was sitting in a war zone as she thought she heard cries for help. It was the woman upstairs being attacked by one of her druggie friends. Dina stayed quiet and listened and did nothing. All Dina could do remember the number of bashings on the ceiling and the terrible nights she had sleeping and being afraid of going out.
The druggie managed to make it to her door and run out flat with her being chased by a drugged up male.
Dina laughed, she couldn’t believe this happened to such a nasty person. Who knows who called the police and the male druggie was arrested in the street. After a week the female druggie packed her bags and left.
All Dina could do now was laugh her head off but didn’t say a word to anyone. She wonders if she should gloat or not. If it happened again, she would not lift a finger to help.