Egging Poems | Examples

the horse is dead dismount

my husband and I used to argue
weeks after a verbal agreement should have been over
we were silly about it
heckling and harassing each other
over things that do not matter
ridiculously egging and goading

my husband told me a story about a soldier
the soldier kept beating his horse after it had died
his commanding officer said “the horse is dead, dismount”.

now when the argument reaches a silly stage
one of us yells “the horse is dead, dismount”
this has worked to end our idiocy for the last fifty years.

Century

If, into my future, I get a sudden chance to peep
I'd choose my ninety-fourth birthday hoping am still alive;
My mother left us at that ripe age while still in good health,
not live long, but I'd be happy to witness the scene live;

It is not my desire to be a freaky immortal;
From ninety-four, it's Test Cricket, just singles with my bat;
I wish to see what things would be on that momentous day
And to score a grand century is what I'm aiming at;

I need to be ethereally there cutting the cake
With my wife, those who matter, egging me for an encore;
All of us encouraging and back-patting each other
It's what I want to see in future, and what years I score;

My ninety-fourth birthday event is what I want to see,
But I also know that life is cruel and a known tease;
We can never know when and where our breath will be snuffed out
When we shall dance, sing and when our life will come to a cease.

If I Had A Chance

Into my future, If I get a sudden chance to peep
I'd choose my ninety-fourth birthday hoping am still alive
My mother left us at that ripe age while still in good health
not live long, but I'd be happy to witness the scene live

It is not my desire to be a freaky immortal
From ninety-four, it's Test Cricket, just singles with my bat
I wish to see what things would be on that momentous day
And to score a grand century is what I'm aiming at

I need to be ethereally there cutting the cake
With my wife, those who matter, egging me for an encore
All of us encouraging and back-patting each other
It's what I want to see in future, and what years I score

My ninety-fourth birthday event is what I want to see
But I also know that life is cruel and a known tease
We can never know when and where our breath will be snuffed out
When we shall dance, sing and when our life will come to a cease

For Whom Nothing Matters

For whom nothing matters

The night had been mysterious and full of screams
raped women hung from apple trees like rotten fruit, their begging not to be eaten went unheard
Men, crazed by pornographic lust and sweet wine 
egging one another to commit heinous crimes. thinks, they did what women wished
The morning had an aroma of newness, a promise of Utopia where humanity lived in peace with nature and
themselves hopefully modest egos
Pre-mature fruit lying on the ground as the fruit, not of the loom but the result of nights of excesses 
the outcast to be thrown away as abortions are the right 
to take life that has no voice
the guilty of this horror has no brain and coincidence
to see the grossness of their behavior because they had learned from a failed culture that the only thing that has any value is self-indulgence and hot fries

Keeping Up the Pace

Life is like a galloping horse,
Flying around a track
Faster and faster, he gallops
Too fast to look back

His need to win is crucial,
He cannot afford to lose
If he could communicate
He would refuse

One day when hurtling
Around this long race track
The jockey pushed him too far
And cracked his whip
On the horses back

Faster screamed the jockey
It looks like we might win,
He cracked the whip again
That broke the poor horse's skin

The crowd were all yelling,
Egging the jockey on
Hoping he's a winner
And they'll be rich before too long.

The horse was exhausted,
He had suffered enough
The winning post was very near
But the race had been tough

The rider was feeling jubilant,
He was sure he was going to win
The onlookers thought so too,
Cheering louder, making such a din.

The horse was breathing heavily,
His heart was beating fast.
Sweat was pouring off him,
As the other horses passed

One by one, they passed him,
He was no longer in the race
He died peacefully later in his stable
As he could no longer keep up the pace.

Interloper Came On Too Strong

“I suggest we break the ice”, the interloper said.
I began chopping with a snow axe, and she laughed.

You must have been born with a silver spoon, she threw out.
I threw the snow axe at her; irritated she had called it a spoon.

She ducked, as cool as a cucumber.
I was irritated now.

“I’ve got your number,” she told me.
I had no idea how she had gotten it.

“I was not born yesterday,” she added.
I knew from her wrinkles she was not lying.

“This is as easy as ABC,” she said. “You are transparent.”
I was not a happy camper now, she was getting under my skin.

“Hold your horses,” I told her. “You are coming on too strong.”
“You’ll be in hot water if you continue egging me on like this.”

She laughed. “Let me put a bug in your ear,” she said.
“Hot water is something I do best after falling through a hole in the ice.”

My Writing Runs Along Beside Me

Some days my writing runs along the track next to me.
Sticking out her tongue or wiggling her hips in a provocative way.
My muse is hanging on to this elephant for dear life.
Pretending she is slowing her down, actually egging her on.

Other days my writing sits in my lap and pats me down.
Pat. Pat. Pat. Like a cat who is getting her nest ready.
It is difficult to ignore this, so I pick up my pen if I am able.
My writing starts often in my dreams and finishes right as I awake.

That’s the writing I am the most curious about,
As I almost never am able to capture any of it.
Maybe the last three words 
By the time I return from the bathroom, they are gone too.

Loosen the Strings

Little Miss Muffet
Sat on a tuffet
Wiling her time away
She heard some shooting
Of course, it was Putin
Egging his puppets on.
She did not know them
So she did not show them
Any sign of fear,
Her innocent face
As she made them a place
Saying, puppets come over here
They loosened their strings
And started to sing
Together in harmony
Sitting together
Like birds of a feather
Peaceful, Happy and Free

He Is a Superspectacle

He is a superspectacle
Loud and proud
A one-man show

The teacher wants him out
The kids are delighted
Egging him on, loving the way he has taken the class hostage

He adores the attention
He has never had it before
Herein lies the problem

Holding Back Tears

She stood there, holding back her tears,
      He was going far, what to do?
She had to keep aside all fears,
      Or she would end up feeling blue,

      A soldier was going for war,
She stood there, holding back her tears,
      Would he come back safe? Her heart tore,
For he was posted at frontiers,

Looking back, recalling past years,
      She smiled as she bade him goodbye,
She stood there, holding back her tears,
      Her fearful heart stifling a sigh,

      The hope of her meeting him soon
Kept egging her on, as life steers,
      Each day, she’d pray under the moon,
She stood there, holding back her tears.




07.31.2021

For Edward Ibeh's "This or That, Vol 5" contest

The Past

By: rontwigger

The past we just leave behind
With its utmost ardor and courage
Seems to linger on our veins
Egging us to sashay with hope.

The moments we want to shine
Filled with hope, faith and trust--so genuine.
Upon our warm, wide open arms
Ready to feed, ready to fend.

All that are gone are sure to come
Making us realize that life is but a juggle
Nothing's pure and nobody's perfect
Impurities, we have; impeccabilities we love.

The future we long to have
Amidst the gazillion possibilities
Divided by heaven and hell
All staccatos are towards eternity.

Odd Times

Odd times
 We live in a strange time a music festival and no audience
Actors playing to empty seats, football matches without
the usual horde egging on the players to score goals
the very banality of the sport tells us of lives’ uselessness
our existence is useless, so we invent something
of course, it could be worse, say, war and boundaries.
We divide the world into small parcels, those with the
Most prominent patch always wants more and create mischiefs
And lies.
But for now, these childish things have to wait for a virus
Is harvesting us humans and no matter where you go
It will find and often kill you.

Mind Bloom

Little floret, little floret, when will you bloom?
Egging with watchful eyes, I waited for a glance.
Gentle dreams hit my eyes, oh! missed it in that gloom
Engulfed in mystic fragrance, took me into trance.
Drowsy lazy timid mind, one day sure will perfume 
Yes that day, spreading fragrance, makes the world in prance.


Third Place in Each Letter Threads The Verse Poetry Contest sponsored by Joseph May

Growth

Majestic evergreens, ramrod tall, towering over the fence they border
   Long-ago runts, thirsting for water, struggling for their place in the sun

Bought for a pittance, a young man's dreams egging them on
   Now he's older, they've left him behind, stumbling in their wake  

As they fight back against the chill Spring wind, headstrong as he once was
   His laughter parting the very skies, pleading for Nature to take her course

7 Minute Reply, Battle Rap With Brenda Chiri

Battle Rap With Brenda Chiri

Brenda Chiri don't try me

It's not old and told, 
same gun, bullets roll,
pull it hole 
strolling rhymes, 
quick time, 
literally laying these words at pace 
while you take out a pen and paper 
jotting down like a waiter,  
rhymes to cater 
couldn't be straighter,
down the line 
the same constant whine
from the kind drinking wine, 
out the bottle not the glass, 
you aint got the throttle or the class 
to spas alongside my asss, 
I'll set you a task 
watch you finish last, 
dragging your handbag to bits, 
alongside your sandbag tets, 
I can do the splits and backflips,
you have splits in your hips, 
see me now, I plough like magic,
your comebacks are plastic 
made with fake fabric,
with laxative patches
you're like Bush giving a speech, 
five letter words beyond your vocal reach, 
needing a teacher like a freak, 
I fight on the beaches, 
I'll fight you and all your beaches,
egging you on, 
like Brenda you strong 
but your words make me mong,
so until next time for now I say to you so long.

• Short Egging Poems
• Famous Egging Poems
• Best Egging Poems
• Read Egging Poems
• Long Egging Poems
• Egging Quotes