Blowhard Poems - Poems about Blowhard

The expert arrived in time to show the rest of us How to garden, how to bake, how to cook, How to clean, how to make our own clothes. She is the expert on everything. She can show you how to arrange flowers, How to bake a pie, how to talk to your husband. When is she leaving? I ask...

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The blundering wind, blows absence of sensible youth. It can tell no lies, nor can it tell the truth. It blows strong on the flower and onto the grass. Where they both huddle blindly, unaware they won't last. Erstwhile the wind can blow for many dreadful days. A stupendous blowhard, until nature tames its ways. The shrewd stay protected, while the...

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You are afraid you are too sensitive? Let me laugh. First you would have to have feelings, Mr. Always Me Path. Next you would have to care about another human being. You are all about yourself, which is what I am always seeing. Too sensitive? Are you kidding? It's a gag. It's a joke. I have never in my life...

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So how did your meeting go? My boss asked Number One and Me. Number one is actually Thing one, and I am Thing 2, for it was Thing One’s idea to adopt families and give Christmas presents to children, and she has been doing it for ten years, I have only been on board...

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FESTER BLOWHARD Uncle Fester’s full of hot air. He blows up at Frida Fayre. An unfair and dark fellow, Blowhard farts into a cello. Freckled Frida just so feckless with her flute. Her thin lips and puckered cheeks softly toot. Fester fosters a hot-air balloon. Frantically blows out his old bassoon. Frida nervously nettles her fingers to pray. Fester’s balloon bollixed, hellfire to pay. 6/25/2017 LIGHT POETRY A...

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A sit before a screen or page and muse most momentarily it seldom takes a minute more for it seems I’m always stewing amazed at this, afraid of that, annoyed beyond endurance with pen in hand or keyboards click, I truss the image up. I tie the brash in blades of grass, I soundly trounce the villain I’m...

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with a nose nailed to the ceiling be they parvenu or just wishing really hard that they were, smiling & chatting, speaking with their pinky finger & catering to their drink/instrument from which they attempt to gain interest in themselves--- name dropping as if it was going out of fashion & always speaking of the aesthetics of “pieces” which deserve to be paving the street...

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