Long Bombast Poems
Long Bombast Poems. Below are the most popular long Bombast by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Bombast poems by poem length and keyword.
Brainstorming (For Me) Generates "Writer's Block"
Lesson obstruction,
but more so an over
whelming flood of ideas
makes dredging, conceiving
than giving birth
to an amenable notion
more difficult than grabbing,
(even a tony tiger) by the tail,
who readily admits
said titled quasi moniker
denoting onset, sans
(to experience authorial dearth)
of satisfactory acceptable theme
(first to pinpoint, than expound)
more accurate generalization
cerebral struggle
regularly visits this Earth
ling, when embarking upon
a literary creative enterprise,
thus gluttonous analogy
to swollen girth
after gorging ravenous
appetite on verge
to keel (crushing
screened iron curtain garrison)
over 'pon arduously
(belching at every
step, viz process),
while lumbering
to heavenly hearth,
(a Homeric Odyssey) filling
the dining hall with mirth,
thus, I hoop fur
ewe dear reader,
spending your time
whiz wool worth
the effort receiving insight about,
how this logophile really
haint goot much clout
to boast, (nor doth,
he...wrack his mind
to coon sitter) himself devout
lee gifted, (cuz...he aint),
nor does yours truly
make pretenses to flout
any arrogance, bombast,
conceit, et cetera,
yet avers pain
staking effort
(akin to sinking grout)
to plug up gushing geyser of
superfluous excess bursting,
competing, and exploding
beyond capacity of this lout
finding me (a
piggish porcine – person)
hogtied with no
recourse but to pout
reaching pig tailed wits end,
as pertains to this poetic scout,
who welcomes inspirational uber lyft
through swiftly tailored
harried sty hill.
Government (show) Shut Down December 2018
Messianic Don found tarnished appeal
trumpeted bluster thwarted
with muted (hip hip hooray) Democratic zeal
played (on microscale) like quashed
ill fated braggadocio big deal
bombast, sans General George Armstrong
Custer's last stand,
viz Little Bighorn, achilles heel,
where Native Americans
showed deadly steel
against cocksure doodling
haughtiness didst conceal
Yankee sited in cross hairs,
who got comeuppance,
whence his notorious
reputation did never heal,
thus markedly high light
ting (albeit in deadly fashion) might
whooped, undermined, and
served just desserts,
when forces of the Lakota, Northern Cheyenne,
and Arapaho tribes did unite
defending their turf against
7th Cavalry Regiment of the
United States, mauled as bloody sight,
which justified comeuppance,
and whipped up white
settlers fury like an inferno doth ignite
combustible material showing
no mercy toward "red men"
unleashing brutal, short
and nasty genocidal spite
long a tragic footnote in history
proves tummy at hefty price
that present swaggering presidential chieftain
more'n halfway thru administration thrice
occasions brought third "shut down"
(the first time in more than 40 years)
during his opprobrious term,
now got meted "no dice"
cuz commander in chief usurped, provoked,
and kickstarted retaliatory actions, I.C.E.
suspect, where staunch stonewalling tactics
unexpectedly found paunchy big boy lice
sensed to shame, name and blame Congress
i.e. as he thrust forward power,
and hood did launch
bully tactics doth evince,
how he does not play "nice"
demanding five billion dollars for
pet project wall barring Mexicans
(and other asylum seekers south
of the border) did not entice
unanimous concurrence thus sets device
sieve ness roundly shows
Trump doth need strong cussed hard advice!
I came to poetry a novice, a neophyte, a fledgling
oh sure, I had written as a child . . .
but that was just the writing of a tenderfoot
as my life became more grievous and woeful
I found myself mournful and melancholy with a
a dolorous melody replaying over and over in my head
the years of repression and suppressed pain, and denial
had left me with shyness and inhibition . . .
I needed to write my sorrowfulness but felt a barrier
confused and struggling with my thoughts and words
I would flounder, fumble, tumble and stumble
with fear- then, I took the plunge . . .
I had spent a lot of time in the beginning reading poetry
most poems were beautiful or lovely sensual rhapsodies
but many were just big words extravagant to me . . .
some just a pompous bombast of rage and ranting
lecherous and blustering and well not my style
I wanted to write poems with depth in every form possible
but, I read on and inside me a fire burned . . .
it had no flame but was just a glowing smolder simmering
I suppressed my passion until I was totally ready
the timely care and preparation served me well . . .
and with divine providence- I let my pen drip on white
it dripped and dripped until it was bleeding words, syllables, phrases
finally, I was able to set my emotions free . . .
____________________________
May 21, 2019
Poetry/Free Verse/Taking The Poetry Plunge
Copyright Protected, ID 19-1145-887-02
All Rights Reserved. Written under Pseudonym.
Written for the Eight Word Free Verse Challenge
sponsor, John Hamilton
Second Place
WHAT A CRYING SHAME
My parents were married for 45 years,
Looking forward to their 50th anniversary,
But my Dad got cancer and died,
And my Mom slowly developed Alzeimers!
She lived with us, but often did FLOUNDER,
And her mood was often DOLOROUS,
She spoke incessantly on a make believe phone call,
But to us this was BOMBAST and of little meaning!
She had not one INHIBITION, and often acted
LECHEROUS – used to take off her nightie,
Whilst speaking to her imaginary, half her age lover,
We felt sorry for her, for this was not my mother!
One never knows how to handle any
Loved one, who has Alzheimer’s and who do
Not understand reason, nor did she,
All of us a NEOPHYTE, new in this arena.
But as PROVIDENCE would have it, God
Must have felt so sorry for her,
For 45 years was a devoted wife,
Now a mistress to an imaginary young lover!
She fell and broke her ankle and became
Bed-ridden at the age of 86, but
Her mind somehow came right, we
Have asked doctors, no one knows why.
Before she died, in a manner SMOLDER, asked to destroy “Ari’s” love letters!
POETRY CONTEST - JOHN HAMILTON
EIGHT WORD FREE VERSE CHALLENGE
FLOWER IN THE CRANNIED WALL
I tower above the crumbling ruins
Of a once majestic tower,
Flag and pennant proudly proclaimed
Pompous claim of pelf and power.
Yet all the boast and bombast,
In crumbling silence relates,
Of transient tenebrous things,
Of fickle times, of fickler fates!
Filigreed fronds in gentle sway,
Butterfly-hued my petals smile,
Delicate poise, yet firmly gripped
By roots who’ve been awhile.
So here I sit so up on high
Exuding sweet allure,
Biding time in changing climes
To wilt and die for sure.
But then, again, I’ll never die!
My seed will traverse to distant land
In nurturing avian gut to drop
In crag or cranny - to make its stand.
(And phoenix-like I'll rise again!)
Under divine providence comes a little child,
laughter and joy fill up an empty room.
A neophyte in world of grown up adults
knows to trust unknown smiles.
The naive apron of tender ignorance
blind in innocence, thinks all's so dear,
sweet candy and red toys can dry up tears.
A lecherous gaze of smolder
crushed the rose.
Ash of dead petals scuttled the air,
to flounder for help in dolorous whines.
Wheels of a car left scars on muddy road
secret memories on a 'body' of six year old.
Hushed underground, bluster and bombast,
shackled inhibition, guilt, shame and fear.
Panic remains alive,....it's a long nightmare.
An impulse of life
extinguished in silence.
burns forever in cells...
traumatized in violence.
Dated 7th June 2019
8 word Free Verse Contest
Sponsored by John Hamilton
To write a poem using the following words:
1. Neophyte 2. Inhibition 3. Flounder 4. Dolorous
5. Bombast 6. Lecherous 7.Providence 8 Smolder
Former CIA Director
John Brennan scathing headlines
Washington Post op-ed sharply
published critical accusations
muted excoriation slams
Commander in Chief
volcanic blatant pathological lying
spews like lava his American
foreign policy boilerplate brazenly
bastardizes by banditry blueprint,
balefully balkanizing beautiful bracketed
booming brady bunch brand,
bests best-buy buffer braking balanced
bastion, bolstered beloved benighted
bequeathed bicameral bipartisan bliss,
Baptizing bacchanalian buffoonish bombast,
betokening bobble-headed Bumstead,
barmy bartered bride bravado, bizarrely
brash brassiness, blindsiding behavior,
beetlebrowed bonehead, bafflingly baldfaced,
bankrupting, blithely bollixing,
bombastically belittling, badmouthing,
banally blasting, banana-boat baseless,
bearish blandishments, beastly boastful
boosterism, bellicosely boorish, bug-eyed,
bighearted, bigoted blathering breeding
blunderbuss bloopers, bewildering
bloodletting bellyache blight,
brazenly being bandying bellwether,
blitzing bourgeoisie balderdash,
balking but beaming barbaric
berserk ballyhoo backbiting,
backslapping backstabbing
blacklisting bromides,
besetting basic bestowed blooming,
Bobbitizing bedeviling beneficial
bulwark bereft badinage, ballistically ballooning
betrayal birthing bedlam.
I watch the smoulder in your eyes ... rise
Flames licking inhibition, searing our entropy and ache
I am the yang to your yin, the neophyte to your authority and ease
Your gaze pulls me inward like the claws of carnal chaos
And I submit to the spin ... flounder in your fiery forge
I have died a thousand times in your sight, burning
I have held your heart in my hand, and felt the pulse quicken
Your smile and sinews, the swords that bleed my soul
They and I, weary of lust's bombast, and the lecherous spirit of love
(Love defined to a lad as the physical things ... the flesh and feel)
Yet I welcome the dolorous passion that devours me
The wild providence of conflagration that consumes me
And surrounds our world of selfish sensuality
I look deeper and say a prayer for mercy
But the blaze is too malignant, too wonderfully wicked
Reaching its tendrils to wrap me
I close my eyes to imagine I am you
To imagine the heat of my reflection as it flickers in your eyes
And melt ... like molten madness.
~ 1st Place ~ in the "Eight Word Free Verse Challenge" Poetry Contest, John Hamilton, Judge & Sponsor.
No, it is not irony, Donald Trump
So, is Donald Trump innocent
In the charges, he had sex with underage girls
Guessing is not good enough
Did he or didn't he?
I think not
He was indeed drawn to the clicks of adolescents
men who believed they were so powerful
They could gratify themselves with young girls
and get away with it
much interest is why in a house, not his, spent
An hour with the woman who committed suicide
She didn't say he had had sex with her
But Trump, who wanted to be a hero among
depraved men, liked to give an impression of doing
So, all I wanted was to sleep a little
We know Trump's life is a story of a fantasy life
In his deluded mind, he may give the impression that
He is a leader of men
He is a pussy cat that gives in to stronger wills
Take the drama of war with Venezuela; he doesn't
want that war except, perhaps, a little shooting
here and there
He wants to cut a deal with Maduro, which makes him
Looks like a winner, basking in glory
and perhaps win a Nobel prize for stopping a war
Donald Trump is not the problem, but the men who
Those who are attracted to his Bombast are lethal
At the time of my decision later in life,
I was not a neophyte nor did I experience
an inhibition in using my paints and brushes.
I had loved to draw since I was a child-
mostly enthralled to express dolorous scenes
like that of the Virgin Mary with baby Jesus,
reflecting in her eyes God's Providence
of the sadness of what was to come.
When I decided to study at a local art gallery
under the guidance of a well-known artist,
with his direction, the smolder of my artistic
talents came to life like a raging fire.
At first, I did flounder with techniques,
and with getting to know other gallery artists-
some noted for their pompous bombast-
others by their bizarre or lecherous art;
but, most were humble and gentle, like me.
I polished my unique style of oil painting,
mostly seizing the beauty and peace of nature-
winter scenes, a dark, lonely tree in the fog-
and too- the joy, sadness, or pensiveness
of the human expression through portraits-
art- and obsession- that reflects my heart.
May 29, 2019
~2nd Place~
Contest: Eight Word Free Verse
Sponsor: John Hamilton
Judged: 06/21/2019
Words required to use: neophyte, inhibition, dolorous,
Providence, smolder, flounder, bombast, lecherous