I knew an old buffoon
quite the gloomy poltroon
who through a stormy monsoon
flew his hot air balloon
and among the Walloon
and Flemish
much to their surprise
did not meet his demise
but with neither a blot
not a jot
nor blemish
at all
on hand
in the small
6-Government
densely populated
parliamentary constitutional monarchy
3-language country of Belgium
safely did crash land
He is a cowardly buffoon
Less cowboy than poltroon
Cringes in fear at the moon
Afraid of bubbly lagoon
Doesn’t make anyone swoon
Terrified of a small raccoon
Shrieks and hides from a blown-up balloon
A forever alone weird little goon
Harold died leaving six behind,
Whom few close families might mind
By being to them honestly kind.
They'd cross them in streets like the blind!
Harold's son by slight buffoon,
As he does self in pubs cocoon,
His daughters! 'Yes' to men too soon,
At nights waiting to kiss the moon...
Six left by Dad to face the battle,
The Eldest thinks they're all cattle,
Second, that they simply prattle
While The Last is the most rattled...
The truth: They are embattled!
I met a raccoon with a look so gullible;
Stumbling he came from a jungle called global.
Among the families with a very few high caste,
He lives in the periphery as an utter outcaste.
When asked to describe his present destiny,
He sneered and I said, "For villainy and tyranny".
His well-dressed ancestors lived in a mansion,
When those baboons began their expansion.
Buffoons have no love for incidents of blood,
So I’ll drop here, I’m sorry, just a tear-flood………
Thus, he has lost his wealth not for any thunder,
But for those ruffians’ out and out plunder.
Now baboons are so rich, but raccoon is so poor,
And they can sing songs, yet he mourns every hour.
If you’d get offended for recalling this history,
I’d drink a pot of toddy and munch a plate of pastry.
Feb. 26, 2021
Biting Satire Poetry Contest
What's a buffoon type restaurant
We serve ourselves and eat what we want
Gain humongous pounds
Till we can't walk around
Perhaps I'm thinking of a “buffet” response
Big Buffoon With A Balloon
Instead of being a dumb, big buffoon,
Always walking around with a balloon;
Our intuition;
Poor politician
Wish would leave and live in a cocoon.
Sound familiar?
Jim Horn
Write one using hope, dope, and slope.
Donald Trump, that disgusting buffoon,
Grimaces and gestures like a demented baboon.
Liar and con man,
A friend of the Klansman,
As well as of Putin and his KGB goons.
You should watch how you treat me
Or you will end up in a poem - believe me
I heard every snide thing you said
I saw every shake of your head
Your body language told more than you wanted said
The senses of a writer are well tuned
Easily spotting the buffoon
So take back what you said
Or you will be reading with dread
Your behavior of this afternoon
So there it was nigh on high noon
In the heat of summer's day,
When down the street walked the buffoon
While the town folk were napping away.
No one took much notice at first
Of the buffoon out on the street;
They'd not recognize his mighty thirst
While dozing there half asleep.
But into the sheriff's office he strode,
This buffoon once the laughing stock
And with his six shooter to unload,
The town folk woke to an awful shock.
Now the keys are his, the perfect trap,
Where once there was but a buffoon;
These town folk who too long to nap,
Will follow on the road to ruin.
A Buffoon Of A Tune
My boyfriend looks like a buffoon
He thought he could sing a great tune
Couldn't hold a note
Was holding a tote
Instead he flew right to the moon.
Written: Jan. 1, 2016
Sherri White
Bit by bit I build my life
But it never becomes a structure
Where I can put my head in rest
Lay down my soul in peace
Neither has it become a calculation
Though I keep adding and subtracting
Till date I did the sum forty times
Nowhere have I seen any perfection
Nor any proper displacement of it has been seen
Only it keeps revolving around
Like a true buffoon
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