Best Stingy Poems

I can not turn off my brain
It is driving me insane
So many thoughts I can't get out
I just want to scream and shout
Keeping me up every night
Mornings looking like a fright
From the lack of sleep I know
It's now beginning to show
How crazy it's making me
Friends,...

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It’s easy to be nice to those
who treat us kindly, with respect,
who comfort us through all our woes.
It’s easy to be nice to those
who help us heal from life’s hard blows;
but others, do we oft reject?
It’s easy to be nice to those
who treat us kindly,...

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~Stingy, Stingy~


There once was a poet named
Stingy,
Who loved only himself, what a 
pathetic, lost dingy!
One day, poor, lost soul, fell on his
self-centered duff.
Furious that 34 comments were
simply, not enough!


              August 25, 2019
 ...

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In love, a woman gives her heart, soul and mind,
Men seldomly reciprocate in kind,
They'll take whatever godness is offered
and run with it until they get tired,
If women only give a little of themselves,
The well will overflow and the relationship
becomes more intense,
The law of least effort...

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Stingy Jack knew he had made a booboo during his living 
When he tricked the crazy devil, who was not forgiving 
He did not make it into heaven due to his stingy way.
So tried to go to the underworld, where the devil doth play. 

The...

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Someone told me that all Smythes are crazy, and I believed them
At first, until I met one
Who was delightful, and kind, and did not generalize people
He gave me a chance, which was a marvelous thing.
For I had not been willing to give him one.

Another told...

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stingy old man.
	black breath.
you stroll, filling
the cracks of my youth.
	
	crimson wrists 
plunge into severed 
ground once  filled with
  fresh               soil.
    until   you came.

ripped into...

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She was often totally furious
With her husband who was penurious
He gave pennies to the poor
After quite a big uproar
His flamboyant stinginess quite curious....

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In wild vanity your curiosity hunts
What no greedy archer ever shot;
And pining under unrequited labor,
You’ll condemn your inclement lot. 

In ceaseless tilling your brow 
Shall toil endlessly under sun,
Till no sweat sits on your skin;
And return with no medal won.

For your parsimonious hand 
Withholds the...

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Miss Generous gave me a cup of beans and ham 
almost reluctantly from the family-salad bowl yesterday 
after I casually mentioned six or eight times my lunch had been pinched.

But no ham, she was careful to spoon around that.
And no horse radish which I love...

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