Best Grousing Poems
My friend came home to come inside.
Where he knew that warmth and love abide.
And he could sate his appetite.
And know that it will be alright.
He knew his human worried so.
Each time he said he had to go.
The back porch light would soon be on.
To know he shouldn't be too long gone.
The world can be so very scary.
When he goes out and dawn is nary.
And winter weathers on the front.
As he goes on his evening hunt.
I know it's just my neighborhood.
But things can happen, you know they could.
So each time that my friend comes home.
I hope that he'll no longer roam.
Since that one day when he came in.
I feel that he is now my kin.
So when he's gone I feel alone.
And wait to hear his crowing moan
That let's me know he needs to go.
Back out into the rain and snow.
You see he doesn't seem to mind.
He's truly just that sort and kind.
To keep him locked up in the house.
Just doesn't work as he starts to grouse.
And starts to call his feral friends.
In hopes imprisonment soon ends.
This isn't what I hoped would be.
The first time he seemed to like me.
As he just came right in the door.
To mark his spot and to explore.
I guess I'll just clean up his mess.
It's the best I can do, more or less.
Letting him out when weather's bad.
Is not an option, and just makes me sad.
So here we are together and warm.
Where grousing and rousing is now the norm.
But what else can a human do.
When one and one add's up to two?
Note: Muffles is my stray cat. If anyone can say a stray is there's. :/
Categories:
grousing, cat,
Form:
Rhyme
Once I saw an oddly grouchy grouch,
grousing away on an old couch,
gaping menacingly,
as I eat happily,
my juicy chicken soupy lunch.
Categories:
grousing, funny,
Form:
Limerick
There is one in every family.
Someone determined to be mad.
Not diabolically crazy or fun-loving or whimsically mad.
Angry, hateful, grousing, pouting mad.
Ours is named Louisa, and she is a professional.
She attempts to ruin every family dinner.
Storming off, yelling, screaming, sometimes hitting us on her way out.
It doesn’t matter, Grandpa says “as long as she leaves”.
But sometimes she comes back.
Climbs in the window so she can make another dramatic exit.
“Save your drama for your mama!” someone yells.
This always stirs her up, because her mama is dead.
If they forget to yell it, I do.
It would not seem like family without this.
Categories:
grousing, family,
Form:
Narrative
I am following the footprints
Of a shadowed spectral shape.
Through every line and passageway
She sings to me in daydreams.
Songs of virility and violence
Of sexuality so savage.
The grousing of the planet,
Her heartbeat cracks the fault-lines.
She walks under an orange moon
In cornfields in November.
Singing soft her siren tune,
So I may listen and remember
That she may always be pursued
Until my bones like glass will shatter.
Categories:
grousing, allegory, beauty, moon, women,
Form:
Lyric
Growing up in purest innocence
Greeted as a friend
Groomed with a fine tooth comb
Grabbed unexpectedly
Groped involuntarily
Grouping parts of self
Gripping deeper fears
Grinding self image
Gritting teeth
Gryping of opportunity lost
Grifting gratification
Grappling with truth
Grieving childhood missed
Gripping reality loosely
Grousing silently
Graduating in faith
Grinning of small hopes
Granting mercy
Graced with love
Jaw Relaxes
9/17/17
Categories:
grousing, abuse, anger, angst, emotions,
Form:
Verse
There was a new bulldog on the block.
His name was Sammy.
He was a rocker. His paws were clammy.
We saw him from a distance
And laughed a little bit.
He was shaking his booty and having a fit.
His music was kosher.
His wiggles were familiar too.
He said, “This is what rock, and rollers do!”
Pretty soon we other dogs were wearing stripes.
We had stopped our grousing, our jealous looks and our gripes.
Now we are in Sammy’s band, having a fine time.
Loving our rock-n-roll life, writing songs that rhyme.
Categories:
grousing, 4th grade, 5th grade,
Form:
Rhyme
If your ego is capacious
Or your appetite voracious
For a plucky, pertinacious
Confidence in cherished creeds,
Then your genius, though sagacious,
Conjures arguments audacious
Never seeing they’re fallacious:
Truth be told, you’re in the weeds.
Your disease: a contumacious
Predilection for tenacious
Relics of the late Cretaceous
Buried deep within your soul.
Now the clash of clues vexatious
Shows your self-made strait hellacious;
Still your will proves efficacious
To maintain your status quo.
In the face of facts veracious
When your mood is disputatious
You remain unfazed, pugnacious,
With your slowly dying breed.
Your rebuttals wax loquacious
To escape the perspicacious
But they seem a mite mendacious
To the few who pay them heed.
Though my grousing is ungracious
And my rhyming ostentatious
I won’t stoop to be salacious
For the horror’s grim and cold:
While your heart still soars flirtatious,
Charmed by pterosaurs predacious,
Laxness leaves your brain crustaceous,
Drying, hardening in its mold.
Categories:
grousing, funny, humor, humorous, mental
Form:
Light Verse
Unblinking reflexive opinions lean
indubitably, favorably and certifiably
with minimal pandering soliciting
uber voodoo yawping woos
socially quintessentially obviously markedly
consciousness brakes alignment
defining mine political views
loosely yet not strictly, jerry-rigged,
hidebound Democratic
fealty haltingly pledged ones and twos
to roster of candidates
slated to challenge incumbent Republicans
all to quickly accused,
sans participating sinister ruse
this active voter puzzled at controversial
eye opening ex post facto
fractious, governmental
harmfully injuriously jaw-dropping
suppression within top secret queues
during nasty donkey kong braying p's and q's
(case in point) scurrilous, opprobrious,
and malodorous Clinton administration,
where (based upon my recent perusing
"The Peoples History” –
me strongly endorses
(authored by Howard Zinn news
worthy revelation, (whose recounting
atrocious, calumnious, egregious
glaring ignominious knowledge
jackbooted, mandated, predicated
on blind trust, essentially billeted
charade, facade, inlaid faux Hope loose
bandied cutthroat gratuity legislation
favoring pandering "pork" via
pretentiousness to wealthy gentiles Jews
abandoning average civilians snuffing out
sputtering, grousing, and hoo's
flick erring tapering fuse
whereat this news worthy informed citizen
totally tubularly unaware of any clues
pertaining to antithetical maneuvers,
(loo win ski) shenanigans, and undertakings
today yields genuine boo's
toward Clinton, where I despondently feel
he renegged promises
made to electorate (except top 1 %) got souled
(sold) to remaining 99% cheapest bidders
as-sized thirteen duff heated no nothing
sneezing Schnorrers
spluttering phelgm at me at-chews.
Categories:
grousing, 10th grade, 11th grade,
Form:
Free verse
Staring through the sullied glass
Ever present…
A transom of silent reflections
Standing amid us…
Dirtying with every irate grousing
Thick and hazy…
Our windowpane painted shut
Always locked…
Gazing through at one another’s faces
Slowly fading…
Eyeing the desperations of moving lips
Hearing silence…
Categories:
grousing, life, loss, time,
Form:
Free verse
My life is built on a plaster of gold,
Born with a silver spoon and a rubber plate,
With d sun smiling at me with vexation,
The depth of this out growing love I can’t stand,
Bluffing, surfing, grousing d sounds d parrot make,
You’re like a rose flower, blooming in the sun,
The sight of you I can’t stand,
Your smiles put me a million miles away,
Don’t torment me like that,
For love is the sober friend I never had,
You the reasoning the parrot sings.
You are the love I never had, my lost spoon.
Categories:
grousing, girlfriend-boyfriend, love, me, love,
Form:
Lyric
They call me the charger I told white string haughtily.
Then who am I? White string asked.
Sticking up her aluminum cubed nose,
Refusing to be plugged into my adaptor.
"Daddy calls Mommy the charger!" Sadie defended me.
Sadie is four, and I am her she-roe, teaching her the art of charging.
"I call her that!" My mother-in-law agrees from the backseat, where
she prefers to sit, where it is "safe" according to her own snootiness.
I want to take my daughter and run back into the store and charge
more stuff now, feeling slightly irritated. Charging always puts me
into a much better mood. It's like not paying, rather like stealing as
I never see the bills. My husband pays them after grousing unmercifully about them.
"I am the charger or I am not going to be plugged in today," Charger One says. I rapidly realize I am surrounded by enemies here, so I back down and say, "You can be Charger One, and I will be Charger Two, okay?"
Darling One from the backseat calls out, "Lunch is on me. Let's go to McFrizbee's," making her now the ultimate favorite in my Sadie's world. Assuming she will be using plastic, she has slyly snagged the Charger 2 position. I am livid.
Categories:
grousing, family,
Form:
Prose Poetry
Neither of the old men were born under the sign Pisces
They were playing chess as hard as they dared
Neither enjoying it like a person born under Pisces would
A Pisces lets things flow naturally, not making trouble
Taking the easiest stream possible, not paddling their canoe
These two old men were arguing, bickering, grousing.
Not picking up on the feelings of a Pisces in any way
Acting like Taurus the Bull. I did not ask them their birthdates.
My suspicions were confirmed by their intense arguments.
Categories:
grousing, birthday,
Form:
Free verse
She whines because her food needs salt.
A 2-year-old-child dies of leukemia while she is glaring at the waiter.
He grouses because the neighbor’s garbage is out two hours ahead of time.
He calls 911 to report this infraction, not caring that another person had an emergency.
A young mother is murdered in her home because she could not get through.
An elderly woman is yelling at her neighbor, because she thinks the woman looked at her flowers.
She is so mad, she walks in front of a bus when she leaves, traumatizing twenty-three children and a bus driver.
A mommy’s boyfriend gets upset because a baby will not quit crying. He tries to pawn it off on a neighbor.
She knows he is violent, but she has done more than her share, so she ignores his pleas.
The baby ends up shaken to death.
A sixty-two-year-old man begins pounding on a door to complain about the neighbor’s loud rap music.
The neighbor comes to the door, laughs, and slams the door in his face.
The sixty-two-year-old goes home and gets his loaded gun.
It is everyone’s problem.
Yours
Mine.
Everyone’s.
Let us fix this!
Categories:
grousing, perspective,
Form:
Free verse
Glitzy gypsy magic, gathering gooseberries, giggling giddily,
Gallon buckets gladly gobbling up gooseberries in grandiose style
Gorgeous ghostly golden goblins, giving the greenlight,
For grandmother garden’s grabbing gooseberry gala.
Galloping green grasshoppers generating groans.
As grimy, grubby, grainy, grasshoppers gleefully land on arms.
Goblins grin at grandchildren’s grumpy, griping and grousing.
Which will stop the second they gulp Grandma’s gooseberry cobbler!
Categories:
grousing, 10th grade, 11th grade,
Form:
Alliteration
A few soaring trees
Here and there
On a green earth
Flowers with flesh in girth
The costume bear
No wear and tear
Air going out in BMW
Air coming in seven hues
This show is likely due to
System in a capital skew
In front of them
Is the waste land
Marshy messy meadow
Dull bushes in shadow
Looking ugly and small
Staring at the marble hall
“Can’t we get
Some healthy sunshine
A little shade by a hand divine
A tender touch of love
To get rid of
This wheeze and whine?”
But apathetic capital
Pays no heed
Day goes and night comes
The vulture is sure to return
Peeved mass of despair
Inflammable in the air
The other day came the headlines
Two fleshy plants molested
Raped and confined
Turmoil in the spine
The force opens fire
A gloom dies then and there
Tale of tearing tears everywhere
Grousing gore
Whether here in this shore
Or in Baltimore
Be that as it may
We shall overcome
In the long run
May be it will take
A lot of decades.
We have stars as our guide
And dream inside.
----------------------------------
Categories:
grousing, anger, autumn, beach, bird,
Form:
Prose Poetry