Best Prat Poems
There was a horny man from Timbuktu.
Fell in love with a girl from Kathmandu.
Bursting with desire and lust.
Felt she's the one he can trust.
Asked for a game of sexy peekaboo.
Finally switched on their video chat,
but he realised he had been a prat.
Slowly lifting her pink frock,
revealed a ginormous cock.
The shock almost gave him a heart attack!
Categories:
prat, fun,
Form:
Limerick
Humpty Dumpty was in fact a selfish king. A narcissist with a harem of women, many who were under the age of sixteen. He was quite large and disfigured, due to his royal ancestors marrying siblings to preserve their blood. His mum was also his aunt and his dad was also his uncle in relation. He was a hunchback and could hardly walk. He was bold and had a pale complexion with a very small neck and drooping cheeks. He spoke with a lisp and stuttered, always dribbling. He was very cruel and treated his servants very bad. One small mistake like too much sugar in his tea would result in having their heads chopped off. Despite having many wives, he was unable to have children, so he executed six of his sisters, but one remained. Was she the one who pushed him?
King Humpty Dumpty
was a bit of a prat.
A narcissist numpty,
really ugly and fat.
An evil psychopath,
who loved a good bloodbath.
Those afraid of his wrath,
would stay clear from his path.
He was such a rotten egg -
put a foot wrong and you're dead.
Loved to see his servants beg,
all he gave them was some bread.
Unable to have a kid.
He was empty down below.
All fun he would forbid,
or a tantrum we would throw.
His mum felt so much shame,
his behaviour was insane.
In dishonouring their name,
she wanted to end his reign.
Murdered six of his siblings,
but failed to kill the last one.
She was sick of his quibblings,
so she went on the run.
Humpty was a bit small,
servants had to move him around.
Loved to sit on that wall,
to watch kids in the playground,
but no witness would tell,
about that fateful day,
when he stumbled and fell,
nothing - no one would say.
Now Humpty did not die,
but the damage was severe.
He couldn't speak nor cry,
braindead he would appear.
His sister now returned,
to rule the land as queen.
With all the lessons learned,
she promised to never be obscene.
Categories:
prat, dark,
Form:
Rhyme
Sweet Merlin, our black, magic cat,
would meow from grandpa's top hat
in which he oft rested and sat.
His black head would rise- we'd look at
his mouth holding, grisly, yet fat-
a combat-worn, very dead rat.
Each time we would yell the words, "Scat!
Look, what you have now done to that!"
He'd drop it right down on the mat.
We'd laugh and yell out, "What a brat!"
Return his stuffed rat, with a pat-
for Merlin's next magic show prat!
September 30, 2022
Premiere Contest: Merlin the Magic Cat
Sponsor: Mystic Rose Rose
Categories:
prat, cat, fun, magic,
Form:
Monorhyme
If they have to point out it is banter
cus you didn’t realise it as banter
As they left no clue it was banter
The simple fact is it’s not banter
Banter’s quick wit the sort with charm
not blunt brain dead comments which harm
banters apparent with its own alarm
you know to reply with words not arms
Some will insult you then say what it is
banter they say but the humour's a miss
the standard they bant to tells you just this
have they a brain or a head full of piss
One reason banter is something some hate
Many don’t get it run their lip like an ape
after an insult “it’s just banter mate”
pointing it out then banter it ain’t
Acting a prat is a different thing too
don’t justify actions stupid you do
a prat you are and stupid are you
It’s not banter not close I tell you true
Banter only works against a near IQ
you can’t banter with someone much dumber than you
Banter is something the dumb do different
They are not canny or clever they’re just a blunt
Categories:
prat, anti bullying, conflict,
Form:
Rhyme
Here I stand alone upon this stage,
You prance and mock, a beast to test,
This night, ordeal, more like all the rest.
Your burnt out eyes; defunct yet full of rage.
I use your words, as fodder for my fume,
“Low down hog and dirty dog, pathetic little prat”,
Are you of any consequence at that?
There’s no respite, compassion in this room.
I load my verbs like bullets in a gun,
Act one, scene two this character’s a fool,
For all I’ve lost I have to keep my cool.
Hard man, you’re not the only one!
Whiskey breath, long live death,
I damn you down, pathetic clown,
You so proud, declared so loud,
“Admire all, a man of my renown”.
Categories:
prat, childhood
Form:
This is a true story- no names have been changed to protect the idiot........
Nb- * - a car bonnet is a hood in the United states.
** - censored.
On my way back from the pub
(since real ale is my passion)
slowly wending my way home
in a wibbly-wobbly fashion
in the road sat something small-
I almost passed it by,
camouflaged in darkness
by a cloudy moonless sky.
I could tell it was a Hedgehog
simply by it's silhouette,
and if it didn't move real soon
would get squashed flat, I'll bet.
Just then a hundred yards away
a pair of lights appeared
heading our way at a pace
exactly as I'd feared.
Instinct kicked in, and out I leapt
to the middle of the road
waving my arms frantically as
I switched to 'Hero' mode.
He hit the brakes just feet away
and wound his window down
"get out the way, you Prat!" he yelled
but I just pointed down, and said
"Hedgehog!!" (which he couldn't see,
his bonnet* was in the way),
"Just hang on while I shift it, mate"
was all that I could say.
So, bending down to rescue it
still sat between my feet
my heart sank as I focussed in
then finally missed a beat.
The Hedgehog I had risked my life
to save it by removing
was, in fact, from off a washing machine
a piece of rubber tubing.
Not wishing too look foolish
I just hid it with my sleeves
and slowly walked off to the kerb,
the car began to leave.
Angrily into the air I kicked the pipe before me,
a big mistake- in his rear view mirror
the car driver he saw me,
and hit the brakes, then jumped out yelling
( I remember, although quite plastered)
"That's cruelty to an animal! Come here, you heartless person** !
In hot pursuit back up the road
he came- the chase was on,
I wasn't going to hang about, in seconds I was gone,
vaulting over garden walls and dodging through the gates
then out of breath I hid myself, till he had gone, I'd wait.
Mud splattered with my trousers torn I reached home, panic over,
the ordeal I'd just been through was a great way to get sober.
So next time wildlife is in peril, maybe I won't hurry,
I'll carry on and stagger home-
let Mother Nature worry.
Categories:
prat, animal, humor,
Form:
Light Verse
Round with a crispy white core.
Crunch it, taste its juicy play.
Teeth strong and healthy, its lore.
Apples will keep docs away.
Play with it, throw ball, catch it.
Use as a target to train.
It is hard, good throw and hit.
Swollen eye, it can give pain.
Apple cider is best sweet.
Cider better when it’s brewed.
Cider moment, sways falls prat.
Spirit juices got to his head.
Apple crumble, sweet delight.
Custard adorns, rich flavor.
Moms use it to make nice treats.
Kids gobble It in wonder.
Apples good like wine and grape.
Tasty like strawberry.
Can cause pain like banana.
It was a forbidden fruit!
Categories:
prat, food, fruit, health, humorous,
Form:
Free verse
Did yer mammy ever say"dont call him or her, that?
whenever ye,v called someone, "dim!"or"a prat!?
Well i called my theiving brother a monkey!an got skelpt!
and told that he was to be considered as a whelp!(a puppy dog)
So now he is out on parole from the local dogs home.
He,s just been detoxing like a fool foaming on the phone.
Help me mammy!was all he cried and barked and pled.
she should have skelpt the monkey then fed him water and bread!
Categories:
prat, adventure
Form:
Limerick
Simon has been gone a long time
Does he think we are playing hide and seek
I remember him saying 20 minutes ago
He was going to take a leak.
I open up the bathroom door
I can't believe what I see
Simon sitting on the bathroom floor
His trousers around his knee's.
His head bowed over the toilet rim
Shouting Hughey into the bowl
Are you ok , I ask of him
but he's busy retching up his soul.
It must have been a virus
Ha , That's a likely tale
I don't suppose it has a lot to do
With downing 8 pints of Yorkshire ale.
The world is spinning round mate
He begged me to leave him on his own
Would I call his missus
So she could drive him home .
I heard him say '' I effing love you''
You're beautiful you are
Then I heard her snap You drunken prat
Get in the effing car .
I would hate to be in his shoes
This morning when he wakes
Last night his wife looked so angry
I felt the earth around her shake.
She won't ground him forever
Even henpecked husbands don't get that fate
and in the pub next Friday
He'll have to face his mates.
Categories:
prat, funny,
Form:
Verse
The House That Jack Built 3
Frequently we youngest four gathered bottles that were strewn in ditches,
And along the railroad track,
Then glide our feet over well-worn steel rails on the journey back.
We'd exchange empties for jaw-breakers and bubble-gum at Rose’s General Store,
And whenever I agreed to sing them a song,
We’d be given ice-cream cones for the deed that was far from a chore.
On the way home we’d pluck dandelions, buttercups, and daisies,
To present Ma with a colorful bouquet,
I’d add to it a rose or two if a certain neighbor was away.
If walls of home had open eyes and listening ears of course they’d witness and hear,
The muttered complaints and landing though faint of many a fallen tear.
Still, there was no television to carry us to places no child should go,
No boob-tube attempting to make us believe in all that just wasn't so.
We’d no telephone enslaving us in idle prattle-prat,
There was no couch-potatoing, no pigging out and getting fat.
We weren’t saints and some of our shenanigans surely caused the structure to tilt,
Yet we somehow felt all safe and secure in The House They Say Jack Built.
Then one day city slickers arrived at our door,
Said soon we would be living in Farran's Point no more,
The house where Ma had birthed nine,
Our Haven of Liberty that rested amid Willow, Maple and Pine,
Was part of some Seaway Power Project and Jack's House would be torn down,
And we were forced to relocate , to leave our delightful riverside town.
Gone would be the tall, proud trees, wild berries , rolling hills, winding creek and close friend,
Gone the canal that ships sailed through never would I cheerfully view again.
Gone the long tall grass we'd run through barefoot ,
After a swim in the River we cherished dear,
Gone the smiles from the faces of the Lost Villagers as eyes tried to hold back each tear.
by Joan Donnelly Ellis
Note: Farran's Point Ontario, Canada was a small riverside village. It was one of nine villages relocated before USA & Canada flooded the area in 1958 (St. Lawrence Seaway Power Project)
Categories:
prat, growing up, home, memory,
Form:
Lyric
William Spencer Montague Sprat
(why on earth they called him that)
lived a life of luxury
suited to autocracy.
T'was true that Lady Sprat his mum
with a true Lord had had her fun
and bore a son of noble blood
as any Lord and Lady should.
But alas our Lady Sprat
had acted like a little prat
for she was not betrothed to he
that boosted up her family tree.
This Lord was married to another
(chosen by his own sweet mother)
and though his Lady had fair grace
she couldn't keep his randy pace.
So poor young William S M Sprat
was not pure blood and more than that,
the Lord he thought was his dear dad
didn't know that he'd been had.
But Lady Sprat, she knew her game
and even gave her son that name
although it made him sound a prat
it gave him heritage of Sprat.
So if your name puts you to shame
although your parents are to blame
don't be a prat, just bear the pain
remember Sprat and don't complain!
Ivor G Davies
Categories:
prat, birth, confusion, dad, family,
Form:
Rhyme
Still at times I can be an adolescent, a bit of a brat
I'm always questioning things, though I'm suspicious
I admit there's time's I've been ignorant to even chat
Yeah quit a lot of the time I've been quite obnoxious
A mr know it all! but at the time it seemed ludicrous
Like the magician, trying to pull a trick out of the hat
And getting everyone to say the words hocus pocus
But me thinking wise to it all one can smell a dirty rat
Then things I suppose at times are so blatantly obvious
Some could say your either death or just blind as a bat
But back then I was a little immature, as to it all oblivious
Still inquisitive though I'm now older, a lot less of a prat
And still I'm no real master mind, I'm not any genius
Why this is this, I ask and that always has to be that??
Why something’s are not always, leaves one curious
Though I was told it was curiosity that killed the cat
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NOTE TO READERS AGAIN LIKE INTERWISON AND FATE JUST
tweaked a few lines which I felt made better sense was originally going to add two extra verses
but decided to take some words lines from extra two and rewrite first two verses
in better context I don’t know
again some inspiration fro all the cool soup poets thank you..............***
ADDIN A LITTLE ON END
NOT SURE IF NEEDED TO OUR OF INSPERATION RIGHT NOW
SOUNDS STUPID I KNOW MAKES NO SENSE JSUT GOING THROUGH MY HEAD
DEEP IN THOUGHT WHILE REWORKING OTHERS ID WROTE
THIS POPED UP IN THE SAME VANE AS FATE SAME SOR OF PATTERN AND IDEA
WITH THIS iM OBVISLY MORE KNOWLGABLE NOW THAN WHEN YOUNGER
BUTSTILL I QUESTION A LOT OF THINGS WITH THIS TRYING TO ADD A LITTLE HUMOUR ALSO
INSPIERD BY all the so cool poet members of the soup if I had never come on this site
i would never have updated a lot of my old stuff or even wrote any of the thirty new writes
ive wrote over the past year of being on here THANKYOU FOR YOUR INSPERATION AND COMMNETS
MAKES ME FEEL APART OF SOMETHING XXXXXXXXXXXXXX THOUGHTS FEELINGS WORDS WITH MEANINGS
Categories:
prat, write,
Form:
Rhyme
The budget is boring, George Osborne is a pratt *
Raising extra monies by taxing this and that
The deficit is crippling, but he hasn’t got a clue
To me, the next election seems long overdue!
* the spell-checker wanted to amend prat to part. I almost went with that suggestion, but couldn’t decide which part people would assume he was…
Categories:
prat, funny, humorous, political,
Form:
Light Verse
I’ve noticed that you talk about the things you do well
I listen as you boast of your ability and skill,
I can sense the pride and happiness it makes you feel
I’m aware if you don’t say it nobody else will
If you have to talk of these things when nobody has
your skills are unimportant or they’re skills you do not have
as blowing your own trumpet is a very desperate act
you must crave attention or acceptance you ain’t had
You do things the other people never choose to do
the skill that you require isn’t something we value
believing it is needed as the only path in view
and none of us have mastered this survival skill like you
You believe there’s always one correct option for all
and while you always pick that option others look a fool
when they all pick a different option they ain’t on the ball
as there brain ain’t like your brain, big while there’s is small
So you’re the only one placing value in your skill
and if you never talk about it nobody else will
the feeling that you’re better is a feeling very real
there’s nothing else inside as this belief is all you feel
You never do anything that others see as good
they do things the hard way and you don’t think you should
so they do things the wrong way always misunderstood
unaware that you do things the others never would
So believing you know better just makes you look a prat
what you are is lesser and that is but a fact,
craving some attention because you don’t get that
everything you do is selfish so we feel no impact
Categories:
prat, character, perspective,
Form:
Rhyme
What is it about American divorcees
and the British Royal Family?
Alas it never ends well.
The Duke and Duchess of woke!
Harry, what were you thinking?
Harry, what have you become?
Harry, Why? Why? Why?
Harry, she’s no Princess Di.
After Michelle and Hillary and Nancy
your precious commoner bride
is the most insufferable bit-ch.
Harry, you are a spoiled brat!
Harry, you are an entitled prat!
Harry, on the Queen you shat!
Harry, Why? Why? Why?
Harry, she’s no Princess Di.
And now we have the big interview
with that infuriating Oprah
so poor Meghan Debacle can tell
us all how misconceived she is,
and how victimised she is
by her haters and her tormentors.
Girl, what a narcissist you are.
Girl, what a diva and what a liar.
Spare us all your fake tears!
Spare us all your fake fears!
Spare us your racist tales!
Spare us your lectures and rails!
God save the Queen from you
and that ginger whinger too!
O Harry, Why her? Why?
O Harry, Why? She’s no Princess Di.
Written: March 2021
Wrote this 18 months ago
but after recent pod casts
I just couldn’t help myself.
Categories:
prat, betrayal, family, princess,
Form:
Rhyme