Best Pompous Poems
Like the pompous pied piper leading the way,
chirping his tune of a dawning new day,
frustrations were championed, oh how we followed,
the ego stuffed shirt of a suit cold and hollow.
From the top of the hill, he showed us the view,
convincing our eyes it was harshly askew.
Nearing the cliffs as if caught in a spell,
he fed us like lambs from his poisonous well.
Touting sweet taste of his truth well embittered,
ignoring the signs of nonsensical twitter,
rot with the smell of the nations decay,
we drank from his cup of a water so gray.
Watching and waiting for gifts of his gruel,
the masses assured we were not made a fool,
his promise of greatness was all we could see,
with great expectations of how it would be.
There's no turning back once we swore the man in,
believing bright futures were soon to begin,
blinding frustration gave evil its day
for the pompous pied piper to lead us astray.
He led us to thinking, all driven by fear,
then gave his directives so cryptically clear,
stripping the values by which we would stand
before the American dream had been banned.
Addicted to all the attention and glory,
swiftly he moved to remain the top story,
insisting on walls made of concrete and steel
built by the anger and hate we should feel.
Then some were shaken, disrupting his spell
and found he was stealing our Liberty Bell.
The fog began lifting and soon we would see
the piper exposed as the fraud he would be.
Time has a way, proven over again,
of playing its imminent part.
The shedding of light upon every mans soul,
exposing his darkness of heart.
No longer seduced by the piping we hear,
choosing to see through the veil,
Democracy once again fights to survive,
let us all pray we prevail!
-Jeannie Cronin
So, I heard you don’t like my poetry style
Well, I don’t give a toss
It’s water off a turtle’s tush…
(Forget the duck cos it's too cliché')
Who are you to judge what’s right or wrong?
You take pride in pointing out other's mistakes
with your mealy mouthed sarcastic comments
Those little digs you like to shovel
droning on about proper meter and form.
Well buster, I'm gonna shout it out
so get this straight cos I'm making it clear.
You may think you are the next poet laureate
But I'm going to tell you the truth...
You’re a self-righteous bore
whose opinionated ramblings are just a rant
by someone who thinks they can write
but quite honestly... can't!
Opinion Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Kai Michael Neumman
06/25/20
½ cup sass
1 tbsp eye roll
2 cups suprirotive
1 cup white privilege
½ tsp rudeness
1 brand new car, softened
5 oz brand name clothing
A dash of allof, to taste
Add all ingredients together, while whisking in misinformed news media. Mix thoroughly for pretentious.
Orange steps into view
Demanding her due,
Green plots
Blue demurs
Pink laughs
Grandma rolls her eyes
She has met other oranges
Purple sits tight, not relinquishing the throne.
Grandma mouths ‘sit put’ to Purple
Orange throws the biggest nastiest fit ever seen in the forest.
She wants Purple to give her the respect she thinks she has earned.
She uses mean words, and gives us her worst example of terrible.
Blue masquerades as a bunny; a quick flash and she is gone.
Pink and Green look to Grandma who turns and walks off.
Both Purple and the throne have disappeared, tucked away safely elsewhere.
Orange throws herself down on the grass, yelling and kicking.
Screaming until she is hoarse, until she loses her words.
Spoiled, the elves think. Irreverent, the faeries agree.
She should have been respectful to Grandma, whispers Green.
Pink laughs
I thought my poem sedulous,
instead it turned out nebulous,
all who read, incredulous,
merit at best tenuous.
Its origin endogenous,
meter, rhyme preposterous,
spurious, anomalous,
muse morosely arduous.
Striving for poetical,
its words turned out pathetical,
useless and nonsensical,
amusement for the skeptical.
Might someone who’s methodical,
and skilled lexicographical,
allay its monotonical?
Odds against are astronomical.
Some poems I can’t comprehend
I struggle reading to the end
Flaunting a complex word
Its usage quite absurd
No comments not e’en from a friend!
I love learning new words on soup but get frustrated when I see poems peppered with long words, especially when trying to force rhyming and the words don't make any sense at all in context to the subject!
PLEASE SOUP ME ME YOUR POEM AND I'LL ADD IT TO THE POEM
Those pompous poets totally bore us
With clever words like 'radiciflorous'
But what you should know
Those words they borrow
From the pages of Roget's Thesaurus
WRITTEN BY LIN LANE
Ben gobbled a dictionary whole
and verbal diarrhoea took its toll
Now he's spewing words
flowing like loose turds
I hope he’ll regain vowel control!
WRITTEN BY JAN ALLISON - INSPIRED BY LIN'S POEM!
These wordy poems they are making
I find discombobulating
The syllable count
Continues to mount
As their egos are greatly inflating.
WRITTEN BY GARY SMITH
Jake ate the whole encyclopedia
Then it was covered by the news media
An instant wordsmith
But it was a big myth
Now he’s in a state of Acedia
WRITTEN BY ALEXIS Y
There was a poet on here called Fred Flynn
Composed a verse about scabies and gin
Was poem of the day
To everyone's dismay
It should have gone in 'soups' recycle bin.
WRITTEN BY TOM CUNNINGHAM
A pompous poet always thinks he's right
And stays up making rude comments all night
With rude words that spit and spew
The idiot has no clue
That all of His poems need a rewrite
WRITTEN BY TANIA KITCHIN
I've got a good word but wait let me see
Possibly change two syllables to three
Your big pompous ass
Craps sweet sassafras
Insults disguised as complimentary
WRITTEN BY TIM SMITH
KEEP IT SIMPLE
Using words with hidden meanings
is for those with intellectual leanings
Poems that are complicated
are strictly over-rated
Give me a poem with simple gleanings.
By: Carole O’Terry Duet Copyright: 12/31/2018 “All Rights Reserved”
12/29/18
Enchanted with the precarious recital, the silent sacrament
Aging hastily, ignoring the cadaverous skin for imminent immaculateness
Tempted to escape a few more, she refuses to be subjugated
Impressed with her capacity to swindle the dim-witted, dense humanity
Never staring back, only gazing onward to the day she will attain flawlessness
Glorious will be that day, the idyllic rendezvous she perpetually craves
Distorted perceptions nourish the wicked ploy
Inside craving solace while shrieking a impassioned, clandestine plea
Swirling thoughts of culpability and delight, waltzing collectively
Ohh how her narcissistic scheme empowers her
Ritualistic and merciless is her crime, a vain diversion
Deceiving the masses, misleading her very own flesh
Eating away is her soul, her essence, the pompous hunt for perfection
Relinquishing tranquility to be the mastermind of an unattainable quest
If the sin of pride is my condign curse;
then I own it, and I can do no worse.
If the world disdains me, not saying why;
then I can stand it, though I want to die.
Outcast for good, alone for evermore,
as souls recoil, ne'er to enter my door.
Because of pride, I'm kept from the Lord's light;
lost, I curse Heaven with all of my might!
(Too bad if some don't recognize my genius;
but know, great souls believe in their greatness.
So spite this world if I'm damned any longer,
for the burden of brilliance makes me stronger!)
pompous pretender
poses purposely pious
patiently preying
(note: Think of a praying manthis and some who wear clearical garb)
Tutelage of Trump and Pompous Prince Pince
Trump invariably
Tries to do things terribly
Lives in Larabee.
Is bunch of nonsense
No cognitive resonance
And same with Prince Pence
We can hardly wait
To see Trump start resonate
Period is late.
Was not worth a dime
Went through period of time
With much grit and grime.
When most we were tense
He never made any sense
Or meet each suspense.
Away went anchor
Did drank another tanker
Beat up Trump's banker.
Wonder which position he
or she is secretary of anyway.
Trump ran over Secretariat
and poor thing, we had to
bury it but must admit his
hatchet he still refuses to bury.
Jim Horn
Pepper the pink and red poodle with her nose in the air
Walked down the runway without a concern or care
She knew the peons were watching her swag
But barely gave them even the hint of a wag
These dogs are beneath me, I am the great one, she thought
Pepper the Perfect did what she needed, did what she ought
She marched down that runway in an elegant way.
Not caring about the mongrels who were watching that day
Her reds and her pinks were made by famous fashion designer Glee.
He only designed for a few actresses and film stars as important as she.
Pepper had given him his start, and she did this as a favor to him.
He had asked her to smile, but that would have cost extra with vim.
THE POMPOUS POMMEY WAS GOOD THEN
AND JUST AS GOOD FOR MAN NOW
FOR COURTESY AND CHIVALRY WERE CODES
TO LIVE BY, WHEN DISCIPLINE AND ORDER RULED THE DAY
AMONG ADULTS AND KIDS AT PLAY
WHEN CHILDREN SHOULD BE SEEN
AND NOT HEARD, OR IS IT THE OTHER WAY ROUND
AND SIX O'CLOCK WAS SUPPER TIME
NO EATING BEFORE GRACE WAS SAID
AND WHOLE FAMILIES SAT AT THE TABLE'S FARE
REQUEST POLITELY TO LEAVE THE TABLE
ONLY SPEAK WHEN SPOKEN TO, WITH ADULTS AROUND
AND TABLE MANNERS AND ETIQUETTE
WAS PRACTISED ALWAYS TO SHOW YOUR KIND
AND THANK YOU'S AND PLEASE'S WERE THE NORM
RESPECT FOR YOUR ELDERS RULED OVERALL
WITH DON'T DO AS I DO, DO ONLY AS I SAY
STAND UP WHEN A LADY ENTERS THE ROOM
WHEN BOWS AND CURTSY'S WERE IN DEMAND
AND BREEDING AND CULTURE COUNTED MORE
WHEN FOREBEARS WERE LORD POMPOUS AND SIR MUCKUS
AND PANTALOONS AND BOWS WERE FOR GIRLS
AND SHORT PANTS AND BOW-TIES FOR THE BOYS
WITH SOCKS PULLED UP TO JUST BELOW THE KNEES
OH YES! PLUM PUDDINGS AND WELSH RARE-BIT WERE THE TREATS.
Calindae knows everything
She is the expert of all
I sit next to her during meetings
For there might be group work
And I know she will grab the poster board
And the markers and do it her way
Such a relief
Knowing I have to do nothing
As she loves being the spokesperson also
Others try to get next to her too,
Sometimes there are a line of us.
Luckily, I am aggressive and
Not afraid to bare the teeth I have left
This is the advantage of being in your sixties
In a group of twenties and thirties who are easily frightened
This last meeting was rather sweet.
She yelled "I KNOW THESE! I KNOW THESE!"
Grabbing the fill-in-the-blank form from all of us who did not care.
No one else reached or glanced but she did not notice.
She wrote large, with a flourish.
When it came time to present everyone acted reluctant.
So I yelled out "Calindae has the answers!"
She gave me a look of love and began reading
Loudly and proudly.
"Sorry," the presenter said," You got one right. The rest are wrong."
Calindae spent the rest of the time arguing with the presenter.
Which means we did not have to fill out the survey
Because we had run out of time.
I will be racing to get this seat every week!
Woe to he who believes written words for him
With the cadence, softness, the romantic tones
He cannot be the recipient of such sweet verse
For no heart as beautiful is for him to belong
While his eyes widen with dream, each word read
He at least has one ounce, one spark of hope
He, however, feels doubt though he wants to believe
As her words are his manna, they help him cope
Yet, what a fool, to think they are for him
Words such as these, the verse, for the blessed
But, for that moment, when submerged in each line
He feels not like a fool, but much like the rest
Trump Is Pompous
Trump is pompous as he will prance
Now has to take a goal line stance
For women he has been abusing
Thought to himself it was amusing
Grabbing crotches and pinching pants.
If I remember correctly the word
in the past was called goosing.
Jim Horn