Long Buffoonery Poems
Long Buffoonery Poems. Below are the most popular long Buffoonery by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Buffoonery poems by poem length and keyword.
‘Faced with a fight I don’t back down’,
He, blowing last trumpet his own,
PM and Party Head,
Somewhat misty eyed, said
With heavy head on losing crown.
______________________
Happenings|08.01.2025|
Poet’s Note: Prime Minister for ten long years Justin Trudeau had to finally ‘back down’ despite all his bravado. But he himself was responsible for the loss of popularity with his immature behaviour and policies. Trump called him governor of 51st State of USA and he took it with a smug smile. Xi of China once gave him a one-to-one dressing down and he could muster little defence. His troubles with India are well known. And to top it all, he is disowned by his own party and people of Canada. No wonder, Justin Trudeau is just out-- a handsome yet vapid man who failed to do justice to his famous last name. It was in India, his first trip that proved a turning point in perception of his personality (more than his inviting a convicted terrorist to his entourage, it was his general buffoonery).
Well! That's a tall order I thought
perusing your extraordinary list
of words to include,
in poetry new.
Not, that I'm a stranger to
the odd eureka moment
I do freely admit.
Perhaps, you will be gullible
and kind
to excuse my writing buffoonery.
Just finished another rhyme
recalling childhood traumas
has triggered the old depression.
Please utilise your empathy
for I know this poem
is not spectacular
but hoping also
not ubiquitous.
13th May 2018
Joined Poetry Soup 2nd May 2018
First poem posted: DAUGHTER
Placed 1st
Poems from the heart I encounter with blissful delight
Offering vicarious insights in this welcoming global poetry site
Exposing myriad realities expressed in artistic might
Taking my empathy prowess to the next level of sensitivity-height
Reviving my poetic soul to express what’s right in the light
Yes, I’m thankful to God for PS ad the privilege to write!
Seeing my poems published is indeed an extraordinary blessing
Opportunities for faith-growth drives poetic accelerator increasing
Up I mount toward poem-contribution with mentor-poets’ appraising
Pursuit for craft-honing, along word-skill harnessing
Endeavoring to learn in this community, I keep on pressing
Refreshed with fellow-soupers' posts, delightfully pleasing.
Elated am I every time my entry poem garners a place
X-rays of judges keep me poetically fit in the race
Propelled to prevail along N/A (nice always) cheerful days
Enlivened by words, penned with life’s breath-grace
Ready for corrections I regard as worthy praise.
In Poetry Soup, I’m nourished with good comments’ bounty
Empowered likewise to assert truth upheld by biblical certainty
Nursed readily by prayer against attacking distress and anxiety
Cheered up to enjoy life amidst buffoonery masks’ dainty
Enriched to share poems’ wisdom, precious throughout eternity!
Acrostic with rhyme
*Deuteronomy 27:3 And thou shalt write upon them all the words of this law, ...which the LORD thy God giveth thee, a land that floweth with milk and honey; as the LORD God of thy fathers hath promised thee.
May 15, 2018
3rd place, "New Poets Only" Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Emile Pinet; judged on 6/12/2018.
Again afresh, with renewed charm
Here comes the periodic festival of glory
To fill all hearts ---anxious and warm ,
With divine pleasure and recast story
Paraded in colours and band motion,
Charged with psychic gusto of emotion
Myth and splendid feelings in blend
Go into the cocoon of human feat ;
The Evil vanquished , squeezed to mend
By the victor Good marking the defeat-
All clangour ,play ,and dreamy show
Do, dance and perform in a frenzied row
The stately royal bounds of rich culture
Now come up agile with vigour anew;
Buried moments come out of sepulchre ;
Things small blow up into a varied stew,
Melodrama shapes itself out of a notion ,
Feelings form a varied spectacle of animation
Drum beats compete with voices motley
Pipes ,timbrels, are encompassed overall
Stilt-walkers ,mask-bearers and tuners medley
And the tableaux in a row , striding huge doll,
Mock duels ,buffoonery and fancy modes
Oh! the collage of oddly strung episodes...!
The elephants in majesty play their role ,
Fall in line and in trained dignity bear the load
The fit chosen one ,carries the howdah ,sole
As disciplined and trained with food and goad
Thus from the natal to the mortal span
In rituals is manifest the splendour of man.
Note:Is the brief description of periodic
(10 day )Dasara celebration in Mysore , Karnataka India
Throughout the gloom of dreary nights the moon
Can be a heartening light.' So who'd attempt in breaking through
The heavy clouds? that dulled the sight of many crowds
That stayed within divisive walls; of fright, that helped division!
That deadened our calls' as mediums minions chanted on..!
T V and radio 24 hours long.' Promising that death would
Come too; and through each stubborn one? Who refused
From pharmica the narco potion ( directive from the commisarry) oh
Such commotion'
And yet heros (for all a'rose) one being Jhon O'Loony,.'his name
Derived from the moon.' He would truly peirce the
Covid gloom. Great effort had; he made in step with other peers
To assay the facts.' And allay the fears.! With study and
From science, that they'd found they began to illuminate
Dark grounds. That ghouls had intended not be found.! Yet despite this.
The gallant band of four' had compiled of evidence galore!
To now expose each 'hidden medical door' in a work of
Historical gravity' that unravelled to all 'dark mystery' I am
Honoured to say I have met (this man!) A a bluff hearty
Cove..And just the type to make such a stand.' Direct of eye
And firm of hand' now making 'great shakes' from a
Meticlous counter-plan' to alert humanity with his chosen
Band.' I give you Jhon O'Loony.' in whom i found no false
Air, or crude buffoonery, yet rather a studied most sober guy! with
A face of care, and bright most friendly, piercing eyes.!
The spotlight flashes funny flair on sagged dress,
miniature crimson sun stuck on the porcelain face.
An animated caricature in comical frail human figure
tramps round and round the circus pitch to amuse.
Sprightly body gyrates in flexed moves of acrobatics,
sleight of hands performs the perfect act of jugglery,
but labored buffoonery of the unfunny fragile clown
falls flat as flakes of stale joke on silent spectators.
Before the neon lights go out in the last show
the slapsticks peel the paint off his sweaty face.
Unmasking the trail of tears he has long cried
he sings a song on the lyric of his broken heart.
The uproar of laughter explodes in the gallery,
the applause hails the crumbled clown at the abyss.
March 6, 2020
Contest : Clown At The Abyss
Sponsor : Kai Michael Neumann
March 29, 2020
Contest : Strand No 710, Any Theme, Any Form
Sponsor : Brian Strand
Bloom Road
Wherefore be this heavenly place?
Untouched by the metropolis'
inhumane demands?
Tis in your heart, dear friend, such
a place be.
Free of political buffoonery.
One must be a bold discoverer of
the heart.
For if not, Bloom Road is naught!
In the sweetest dwelling of your wishes,
Lies Bloom Road, and warm, delicious,
awaiting kisses.
Life is not an accident for those
with drreams.
It's an actuality that's both planned
and deftly carved and schemed.
Be off now, and the hunter be....
Bloom Road and thy keenest lover,
Are at the ready, just for thee.
August 17, 2020
will this matter in one year?
the backdrop of a full life
i watch the movements of the conductor
as he weaves between the instruments
and the house lights struggle to follow him
he knocks into a french horn
and there is a moment of giddiness
a moment of anger
there is an exchange of words, beyond banter
and luckily, they are not overheard
over the optimal acoustics and architectural splendor
the jacket needs to be readjusted
and a handkerchief is revealed from the inside pocket
as he wipes his brow and continues
continues to stare at the horn player
and the battle ends with the conductor
finding his way to the podium
the bloke playing the triangle whispers to the horn bloke,
"simply disengage, don't make eye contact,
and remove yourself from the situation."
the conductor turns, under the stage overhang
and mouths to the horn, "let's dance."
he smiles, then returns and his bow is made
put 'that's all folks' on his gravestone
Have you seen a better fool like me?
A dimwitted dreary buffoon like me?
Buffoonery has its limits, ridiculous,
But for me it's monotonous.
I never change,
I'm always the same, It's such a shallow shame!
Yes, I am the one to blame.
I see politeness wearing
A fancy pair of friendship earrings.
Who does that? An acrobat, a bubbly brat!
Who thinks that a polite chat
Is a friendship, this and that.
Then when people change
And they cut me out of their range,
I feel sadly strange.
When am I going to learn
And stop feeling the burn,
Stop making politeness turn
Into a glib friendship that's not even worth an earn.
Buffoon's bubbly balloon
Should be popped,
Buffoon should be stopped.
I am an open book,
Oops, a buffoon brook,
It's time for a new look,
And get myself off the hook.
The spotlight flashes funny flair
on the showy sagged dress,
miniature crimson cold sun stuck
on the puckered porcelain face.
An animated caricature captured
in comical frail human figure,
tramps round and round
the circus arena to amuse.
The sprightly body swivels
in flexed shuffle of acrobatics,
sleight of supple hands performs
the perfect act of jugglery,
but the labored buffoonery
of the funny fragile joker,
falls flat as flakes of stale joke
on the silent spectators.
Before the neon lights go out
in the last show and the curtain falls,
the slapsticks peel slowly
the paint off his sweaty face,
unmask the trail of tears
he has long shed un-noticed.
He leaves the stage singing a song,
the lyric written by his broken heart.
The uproar of laughter at long last
explodes with claps in the gallery,
the applause hails the joker,
left to live the comedy of life.
____________________
September 15, 2022
For A Brian Strand Premiere Choice Contest