Best Short Tempered Poems
A tall and short-tempered fat man
was a boss I once had named Dan.
Both his kids and his wife
worked there too. Oh, what strife!
They fought like a hillbilly clan.
Dandee Donuts was Dan's small café.
I served donuts and meals for small pay,
wore a stupid hair net
and what small tips I'd get
growing fat on free donuts each day!
A “yeller” was Dan; a disgrace!
He’d scream and get red in the face.
If his business slowed down,
he’d say, “Don’t stand around.
Take a rag and wipe down the whole place!”
In spite of Dan’s awful ways, he
said he’d sure like to sponsor me
as Miss Muscatine.
I said, “What do you mean?
Your food’s made me fat. Can’t you see?”
(I chose the second one here for the contest.
Did I make the right choice?)
Poems, prose and roses
Poets hate politicians
Poets prefer poking pens at people
P-words, power and paupers
Poets love writing about love
Tears, the sky and meadows
Poets are prostitutes
They are sex vendors
They expose their naked thoughts
To the world
They talk dirt without apology
And care less about anyone's emotions
Poets are short-tempered like a mini skirt
Like a G-string, there's a thin line between poetry and bigotry
Poets flaunt their innermost secrets for attention
Poets are prostitutes
Because poets are deep
They spread carnal diseases
Such as satire, criticism, rebellion, revolution, philosophy and the worst diseases of all:
Human love and hate
Poets write out of need,
Self-righteousness, lust and malice.
Poets lurk in the twilight corners of solitude
Under the street lights of obsession
Poets are a minority group
Protesting for equal rights
And recognition of poetry as a profession
And they claim poetic license
Poets sometimes render their sensual services
To ingrates who refuse to pay attention
Poets are often sneered upon in a hypocritical society
And a critical clique of readers
Poets get arrested at night
As this is the time when the goddess of creativity is moaning with faked pleasures of expression.
Poets **** you up for fun.
Writers are whores
Who lust for the misery of others
Their pens drip at the orgy of words
They write from different positions
They milk rhyme and reason dry
They suck life's dictations
Until the truth 'cums' out in torrents
Poets at times endure penetrations of mediocrity
And implants of other people's labour
For the sheer ecstasy of public approval
And literary glory
Poets can rob you of your money
By sweet endearing words
So you have been warned:
Beware of these brutal bards
They can easily elope with your spouse!
I once dated a chef …
I was worried about getting a bun in the oven
But when I saw him mincing across the kitchen
I knew I wouldn’t be getting my fingers burned!
I once dated a fireman…
Oh he was HOT HOT HOT
But when he got out his tiny hose
It soon put out the flames of my desire
I once dated an electrician ..
Hoping that he would light up my life
But he was short tempered and would quickly blow a fuse
Sadly in the end there was no spark between us
I once dated a plumber…
I was flushed with pride when we were out together
Sadly he had problems with his waterworks
I ditched him… he was always taking a leak
I once dated a bricklayer
Couldn’t resist pointing out my faults
He wouldn’t listen, it was like talking to a brick wall
In the end he drove me up the wall and our relationship crumbled
15th April 2016
Grandpa’s rustic, once crimson red barn sheltered so much and so many different things
From biting bitter cold, to cyclonic winds, and hard-drenching-down-pouring rains…
Great memories lie heaped, buried in antique red rubble and sifted gray ash
Decaying on open flat grassy plain along with the historic Civil War past…
The red barn was where I learned about his cranky, short tempered, milking cow
Never wander too close to hind legs for they will surely send you tumbling down…
The weathered red barn held fabulous hiding places for rodents, snakes, and me
I know its brave red heart protected me from countless accidents and waiting dangers…
I acquired great joy sliding down its majestic shingled low-sloping roof
Continuously riding into insidiously giant pillow-soft snow drifts…
Sacred memories of childhood absorbed in knot holes and immense pillared rafters
Echoing in the attached silo and milk room where laughter gathered non-stop…
Along the country roadside, down a pot-hole filled gravel dirt road, were neighboring farms
But not one barn could match the strength or beauty of Grandpa’s weathered red barn…
Copyright © 2010 By Caryl S. Muzzey
Fifth Place Winner ~ "That Old Red Barn” Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Rick Parise
Dec. 10, 2010
A COLD MALE GOAT
Chilly
Billy
SQUIRREL RUNNING IN CIRCLES
Whirly
Squirrely
ANGRY MILK COWS
Scary
Dairy
DOG WAKING FROM A NAP
Groggy
Doggy
HAPPY KITTY
Sanguine
Feline
SHORT TEMPERED FISH
Snappy
Crappie
Placed - 2nd
Members Contest - "I am" sponsored by Paula Swanson
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I am what I am
Accept or reject
I am intelligent
Avail or envy
I am caring
Love or hate
I am short-tempered
Endure or ignore
I am happy-go-lucky
Enjoy or mourn
I am loved
Love or hate
I am pious
Pray or complain
I am self-made
Strive or laze
I am successful
Follow or backbite
I am respected
Respect or malign
I am winner
Felicitate or criticise
I am chosen one
Like HIM or blame HIM
Choice is yours
I am what I am
----------------------------------------------------
© Hitendra Mehta
For out of the heart proceed evil thoughts, murders, adulteries, sexual immortality , theft, false testimony, blasphemies.
These are what make a man 'unclean, ' but to eat with unwashed hands does not make him 'unclean'. Matthew 15:19-20
Clean person in the eyes of Yahweh God,
some people can be ignorant of the word of God
even though they have bibles in their houses, phones , laptops, and libraries.
Does it possible for water to remove evil thoughts
into some folks?
(Answer : no and no, )
How many times do some evil people bathe a year?
( Answer : many times ,)
Does it fair to praise "Evil" to avoid criticism?
( Answer : It is not fair,)
Wisdom of God is not same as of this earth
and so heavy to carry by some people
who got grace to have it.
It is so hard for some short - tempered people to carry
the wisdom of God no matter how very mature
and smart they can seem to be.
Someone can seem wise in the eyes
of some people while he "she" is
nothing in the face of Yahweh God.
It is very hard for some wise of this earth
to identify those who carrying the wisdom of God
as they are very differ in so many things.
someone can seem to be wise in the eyes of some folks, because of few public good actions,
while he "she" is one of the world conflict makers
" or witches , wizards, satanists" secretly.
It is easy to test the wisdom of this earth by eyes
but physical eyes can never characterise
the wisdom of God in someone,
reason why there are a lots of misunderstandings
in christianity in these todays.
some people contunued applying their phylosophies
for their personal gains
and reject the instructions
of the Spirit of Christ.
July 20/2023
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Once in the village of Daka in Burkina Faso,
Lived Koussé the incorrigible drunkard
Very popular was he that his presence was necessary
In all the ceremonies and feasts and meetings,
Wifeless and childless and houseless and penniless was he
But was feared and respected and admired by all.
He is sharp tongued and short tempered
And knows all the secret and history of everyone,
I shall never die till I’ve revealed all your abominations,
And witchcraft and adulterous acts! He’d say
Go away Koussé! You’ve drunk your brain
And chewed your sense!
Yes! I’ve nothing but my senseless boneless rotten baldhead.
He died one rainy midnight lonely and miserably
With a calabash full of alcohol beside his corpse,
Koussé is gone! Some shouted and danced;
All the hidden secrets and history and abominations
Still remains in the village of Daka up till this day.
Read more at: http://www.poetrysoup.com/member_area/submit_poems.aspx
Somedays I feel like a female
Bugs Bunny,
saying "whats up doc" while
confident and cool,
while other days more like a
girl Daffy Duck,
feeling more like a tongue twisting fool,
while out shopping I feel like
an Elmer Fay Fudd,
almost always on the hunt,
looking and hunting for bargains,
hopefully finding them before anyone else does,
while most times at work while on production,
we have to be like a Speedy Gonzales,
or pretending to be like a Road Runner,
all the while imagine being chased,
by a Wile E. Coyote behind us,
and after all the production running,
we smell similar to a Pepe LePew,
because everyone's armpits,
need to be thoroughly perfumed,
then sometimes when I am driving,
and someone cuts me off,
I feel like a Yosemite Sam,
because even though I'm not short,
I feel short tempered and cross,
and when I'm off on the weekends,
I cannot tell a fib,
I like to overindulge,
and eat like a Porky Pig,
well, there you have it,
guess that all she wrote,
so good-bye for now, and
a bleep, bleep, bleep, bleep
thats all folks!
Trust an airborne Ostrich like myself with clean wings as the boar
I have seen the lion sing and the songbird roar
But I stood in disbelief behold the bald eagles fly
Above the firmament’s heights implausibly the bald eagles ply
I have seen goats eat fish before nonchalant cats
Fried fish for goats and cats rummage for grass
Trust an arboreal Ostrich like myself gripping a branch with my paw
I entered Reykjavik’s warmth bolting through Hell’s frozen door
Gazing its skyscrapers and esteeming nature
The stroke of its furnace just as hot as Hell’s glacier
Sweat dripped down my eyes as I flew in fear
The reason for the smile is now same for the tear
It must be easy for you to believe an Ostrich like myself
A tiny Ostrich with a baffled heart almost enormous like an elf
Entomb my head in the sand and the funny peril is gone
Just like the soul has no mouth but its food is song
No different from my egg without doors but a chick entered
Same as God tolerant in the beginning but in the end is short-tempered
It must be difficult to trust an Ostrich like yourself
Men dub your views futile but only you know its wealth
Not wings to fly but ask for legs to run and crawl
He that advocates peace’s doppelganger starts the brawl
How far can you fly through turbulence and pours?
Now show them the farthest you can crawl when it rain cats and dogs
Being realistic
Why am I ?
It is good to be realistic
And remain neutral
When It comes to any race topic,
Some gender debates topics
And politics.
I always find hard sometimes
To share some truth with some
Short- tempered people who can not
Examine my points of views
Before feeling guilty
Or getting angry.
I love all the people with no genders
And races implications.
I always wish to write the truth
About both genders
And races.
Being realistic
Why am I ?
Can you borrow me your ears please?
There is no man who can ignore
Some advanced powers , tactics
And technics of majority women in the World
But majority of them always fail to support
Each other whenever top world positions
Are on polygon and
round tables.
My prayer always is to see
More women on top governmental
And non governmental positions.
I think a woman secretary general
Of United Nations can bring some
Changes in this cruel World.
Because majority women know
The true coulours
Of pains " sorrows " of others.
What stop majority women to support
Each other to grab this top position?
Do your best , majority of your sons
Will support you as
They always be at your sides...
Believe me.
It is not prophetic
But realistic
Just standing up
And applying forms
For top positions.
Good lucky to you
Daughters
Sisters
And mothers
Of the World.
June 23/2023
By Alfonso Warally Ngengethe
Mussabwa Chris
My bio
A dad's daughter,
A mom's soul,
Siblings' wit,
Son's pride,
Husband's darling,
Is me!
Freedom of thoughts,
Flight in ideas,
Fighting every unjust,
Friendship you can trust,
That's me!
Extremely emotional,
Crazy at times,
Passionate at heart,
Liberal with words,
Poetry and music my beats,
My strengths!
Short tempered,
Impulsive,
Beyond real world,
Over reactive,
Betrayal my only fear,
My weaknesses!
Courage of iron,
No one can melt,
Deep desires,
Stay unsmelt,
I am a code word
tough to decipher,
Soft at heart
probably a little hyper !
Written April 16th, 2015
For contest "Bio of a poet" by Tammy Reams
Awarded 2nd place
Nay, despite failing to make the grade,
this bluesy well red, duff mute
average white band hit,
hard knock school alumnus
jack of all trades master of none bumped along
pot hole cratered steep pitch
while riding the bus
bullies skewered kosher me all, cannibalized
carte blanche timid ego
brandishing exacto knife
threatening jugular, cuss
sing maniacally pulling out all stops
going headstrong for this doofuss
Embracing premonition making me mincemeat
vis a vis via, Atilla the Hun plus
Godfrey Gordon Gustavus Gore
after diet of worms
as hors d'oeuvre hug guess
if given a choice, would prefer Loch Ness
monster, or the whale that swallowed Jonah,
either t'would be a quite im press
heave feted feat, versus being poached,
roasted, skewered burnt alive
perhaps sautéed to feed additionally,
the Gothic (Jacks sin) five
the latter adorned with
Bandolier prototype, whence they would jive
to Vandals mess sigh ya,
these last yet another contra band
to play on command, or risk not being
he gee beegee bing a live
all thee above iterated blather spluttered
as punishment against revive
ving human sacrifice by pence hoove lee donning
a new jersey wordlessly trumpeting, and strive
ving assiduously as a one man lobbyist,
and aye willingly negotiate
to take more'n one wive
even though that would be big o' me decor,
thus a last minute reprieve given
without axing por favor
and black keys handed over
to Holy Roman Empire in hoar
rubble ruins (over the Weeknd), thus brutish nasty,
and short tempered surprisingly
(boot not prematurely) ejaculating bon jour
foo fighters actually (grand
aery an nah - did a three sixty)
feting me guest of hun or,
boosting self esteem, the first time
since being a kid in a candy store
which poetic digression
did make quite a dee tour,
and bringing detente amidst marauding
village people hoop reef furred war.
short tempered and strong
stuck In a place I no longer belong
trying to move on
such a scary past
now ending at last
moving on fast
get to work put on a show
hold it in keep yourself under control
trying to leave cant hold it in for long
let it go don't cry move on
they tell me crying is for the weak
they say be the bigger person turn the other cheek
this is what I say
I say
cry
I say get it all out
I say don't hide
I say let the person know and see and feel exactly what they put you through
let your feelings be revealed
only then you can move on and your mind and heart can be healed
people feel they hurt they hate they love and heal
don't ever tell a person not to be human
cause that's exactly what we are
be proud of it show it off
don't hold it in and blow it off
short tempered and strong
in a place I now belong
I am human I am me
I'm exactly who I seem to be
I let it go
ill let you know
direct is what I do
don't tell a person not to cry not to laugh giggle
sigh
we are people we bleed and feel we are people only our bruises heal
After a few seconds of disturbing silence had passed
yet no one agreed upon the presented agenda,
one of the shortest tempered participants
kicked the chair, stood up, pounded the table and yelled
“let’s adjourn the meeting; I’m tired of it,
we have no reason to sit together”
and he was the least important person
among the group.
When he opened the door to step out the room
there was a shout behind him
“you are fired, SOB”
probably it was a CEO or the owner of the company.
The short tempered one turned back his face
and stuck a finger out and shouted
“stick it up your ***,” then shut the door,
everyone remaining in the room
looked at one another, and laughed.