Long Egotist Poems
Long Egotist Poems. Below are the most popular long Egotist by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Egotist poems by poem length and keyword.
The Boss Up in His Tower
By Franklin Price
12/8/2016
The boss up in his tower, and the worker down below
Had somehow disconnected, how it happened who's to know
Been together since conception of the business and the plan
Each one knew the job to do, both the worker and the man
The years went by, the profits grew, the way was bright and clear
The worker was dependable; worked hard from year to year
The boss became an egotist, puffed out his chest with glee,
” Look at me, without me, where would the worker be?”
It was he who had succeeded, all the profits were his own,
He moved into a mansion as the company had grown.
Drove expensive autos. vacationed foreign lands
The worker ran the business, exceeding all demands
The worker fed his family, paid utilities and tax,
Often went to Goodwill for the clothes upon their backs
The car he drove was ten years old, and always breaking down,
Barely got the kids to school, wife to discount stores in town.
For vacations to a foreign land there was no hope at all
Unless the money gambled, won the elusive power ball
So the worker kept on working, just to barely pay the rent
At Christmas time a gift certificate, for a turkey, he was sent.
The worker finally had enough and went out on his own
His wife and children helped him, by answering the phone.
He worked hard to develop a better life for him
Soon hired his own workers, paid a living wage to them
The worker kept succeeding; knew all not due to him.
Each person, that he hired, was a loyal working gem.
His policy was sharing all the profits to appear.
His workers could pay all their bills and take vacations every year.
The worker was not stupid; knew some hires just got by
Would barely get their jobs done, did not really want to try
Took off every chance they got, did not work so well for him
Did not deserve the profit sharing and, with warnings, fired them.
The boss that he had left behind saw the error of his ways
He had not done it all himself, being greedy never pays.
Customers bought from the worker, for the quality was there.
The boss lost most his business, he had no one left to care.
“I am the Moon and live way up high
In the night sky
I live among the brightest of stars
In my galaxy, also lives Mars,
Infinite is my neighborhood,
I would like to smile if I could,
But my persona is to look sad,
It makes me ever so mad.
Lovers lie on the beach sand at night,
Their love etched in the sand in sight,
But others, prefer frying,
Under your rays, blazing
Showing off their human tans,
Oh you darnn Sun, you do have fans,
But a criminal, causing chaos, so hot,
As in devil, certainly not
So much fun,
They prefer me any day,
To you red hot Sun!”
Frustrated the Sun replies,
“I come out every day,
I sustain all vegetation growth,
Warm humans from the outside in,
And the inside out,
Even visit freezing Norway.”
Patiently the Moon listens.
“Oh what do you in any case know,
I dear Sun, provide light
In the night,
And light up dark paths with a glow,”
The Moon then continued.
“And people like to wish when I’m waxing,
Men and women, girls and boys, worldwide,
All too soon
Declaring their love
Giving poets a chance to translate this
Love into words, all around planet Earth,
Across its length and girth.”
“You are such an egotist.”
The Sun sarcastically said,
“Without me, Earth would be dead,
Humans would freeze,
With a rapid ease”,
“i give you that”, replied the Moon,
“You are rather cool!”
“But you’re a romantic fool”,
Exploded the Sun,
“I’m indispensable
To humankind,”
Our romantic Moon had to have
The last word,
"I could eclipse you, but
Maybe you’re right,
I admit in a debate. You score,
You are rather bright,
But I have made history,
Man rocketed to my land,
And held a handful of sand,
Humans landed on me the Moon,
And planted the American flag,
Now I know you feel I do brag,
But I am so proud
Without any shadow of doubt.
Enough now, so let’s call a truce,
And say its deuce, your advantage,
We are both needed,
And respectfully heeded.”
Before:
When no middle ground can be found amid rifts
They’ll send in a few unsolicited gifts
The east and the west shall politely decline
each incoming gift with a two fingered sign
It’s ‘You show me yours and I’ll show you mine
You’ll find mine is bigger and faster than thine’.
Those egotist madmen square up, face to face
Each has a red button hidden some place
During:
There’s streaks in the sky where the incoming fly
They can’t be outrun although some people try
A sullen man says in a voice that is wry,
“It’s a good day for kissing your backside goodbye.”
One handshake may well have made this a good day
Instead I head home where I’ll kneel down and pray
I hope that my lady will manage a laugh
When I say, “Let’s hide under that old tin bath.”
After:
The dust and the glory, the horror before me
No Big Mac and no more knickerbocker glory
The buildings, the trees and the telephone towers
Lay in the dust made by opposing powers
We showed em, we taught em, that we won’t be beat
And we won the war but with ashes to eat
The reds are all melted and their allies too
And we reign supreme but hey… where are you?
I’m sure you’re here somewhere to savour our win
To search through the rubble for champagne or gin
It seems there’s no signal for our mobile phones
but why is your purse amid those charcoaled bones
What will you think of my distorted face
With tumours and fissures all over the place
The air is so hot and it hard to perceive
That if I should die there is no one to grieve
I’m breathing in soot and I finally see
Earth’s last pair of lungs are afire in me
My last living thought now that humans are done
Is ‘God save the west… and I’m so glad we won.’
Let’s take a ride, how about traveling, to outer space,
Just accept anything’s possible, it’s our cosmic chase,
Moving faster than light speed, in the blink of an eye,
Unleash your imagination, laws of physics, don’t apply,
Maybe stay closer to home, getting carried away,
Not that it’s impossible, Probably better this way,
I bid to free your mind, open up Pandora’s box,
Some controlling egotist, may be keeping locked.
Might think this is fantasy, I promise you not,
Keeps us unrestrained, from an imperious lot,
Rather we’d stay stupid, believe everything’s fine,
Brainwashed all our lives, left to tow the line.
Too many gaslighters, out for personal gain,
Call us troublemakers, having gall, to complain,
I am not preaching, just offering sound advice,
Keep your independence, for life’s full of choice.
Well thank God for google, if needing a little help,
Press a few touchscreens, a tonic within itself.
Always some caveats, beware of computer trolls,
Half decent firewall, should suffice on the whole.
Is too much knowledge, really a dangerous thing,
Worse than owning shotguns, barely aged sixteen,
I agree in some cases, ignorance truly is bliss,
Only if comforting, from the inevitable abyss.
Many poets shone light, on history’s darkest times,
Obscure aficionados, emancipating reality with rhyme,
Fighting nightmarish wars, writing obituaries home,
Bleeding ink upon paper, never flinching in their tone.
Others encapsulate landscape, frozen in winter snow,
How they portray nature, this rhymster will never know,
Beautiful form of art, smashing out from all restraints,
Poets you set me free, lest my tribute is mundane.
By
David Kavanagh
Hello,
I would like to introduce you to a dear old friend of mine.
I made his acquaintance by pure accident. You might say, we bumped into each
other. Oh, silly me. You thought I speak of an actual person.
No. I hold here in my hands, a diary. Not just any diary filled with day to day
frilliness of a Victorian Lady. But, a diary filled with.......
Well, I guess you will have to just wait and read for yourself. I will just pick a page at
random to start out at.
The Gentleman who wrote these entries, is a man of many facets. He is kind;
frivolous; confident; an egotist. He can be filled with anger and then *snap*, just like
that, be his over the top self once more.
He is death himself. He is a Vampire.
Ladies and Gentlemen, I offer you a look into
The Diaries Of Lord Kellington
Whispers of the dawn rush to meet me each morn. They taunt and tease
me. "Morning is not long to come. Your time to play does run out".
Alas. Tis true. My time in the night is short. So I must hurry. Shall I prowl the night
as I? Or shall I don a disguise.
Once I think on it. Either way does not matter. There will be no eyes. None to see
after my "kiss". So sweet and gentle that sip.
It takes just a glance and the other night dwellers know to avoid me. They sense that
death is my shadow. Why! They couldn't be more right.
I will choose swiftly. So that I may go dance. Yes! I love to dance. Ah. The night is
my stage. Truth be told? I love it!
~Lord Kellington
Hello,
I hope you enjoyed the first installment of Lord Kellington's Diary. There are more to
come
now hear the unheard cries
of dalit women plight
upper caste takes pride
humanity here despise
seeing the cruelty dies
of high caste females crucify
mercilessly their own gender
in the name of caste blunder
mutely supporting the plunder
of dalit women, who wonder
the silence of own gender
on the sight of feminity
in the board day light
paraded naked in their own vicinity
raped, ravished and trampled
no doubt upper caste feminity
is skin deep only
else they would have fought
for their feminine right
to live life free of fright
alas! they are caste blind
to see their mutual bind
feminists too are not so kind
to raise voice against the crime
however will burn candles
and raise issue nation wide
on death of upper caste women
died enjoying night party
such feminists who glee
in distributing pink panty
for women’s right to party
awfully ignores humiliating death
suffered by dalit women daily
story of dalit women is grim
suffers discrimination all time
as a female and a lower caste being
though struggling through adversities
if succeed to come out of the rim
aristocrat high caste vultures deem
her hopes nothing but dream
ever preying on her virtuosity
that dominates their caste superiority
arising dalit women suffers subtly
high caste people discriminating policy
based on caste as well gender inferiority
where majority prays and swears by female deity
but treat dalit women mere commodity
nation egotist in its democracy
fails to notice caste discrepancy
dalit women should now be their own saviors
pursue the legacy of Savitribai Phule and Dr. Ambedkar
be educated, be united and agitate
…raHUL
Form:
A Perfect Company
By: Noel N. Villarosa
They are the big fish in a small pond
They received kudos and power widely
With their bunch of fives used as their wand
They dominate while sitting idly
Been tasked in carrying coals to Newcastle
Never saw them as cool as a cucumber
The atmosphere of the office is in a chronical hassle
Mobility and formative years, they are there to encumber
World-weary, so he indulged into stargazing
That he was working in a peculiar place
Where people work with eternal bliss
Where no one to make shudder and no egotist displaying
Everyone is happy to comply with buoyant spirits
You feel as no stranger but as a longtime friend
Where giving recognition and importance have no limits
Different origins and cultures do blend
There were no rush works and pressures
No deadline to meet and sanction
All work harmoniously with pleasures
And get involved in another function
They were wearing a white uniform
No shoes, all are barefooted
No pains to bear and no hurting words thrown
A feeling of living in your own homestead
The place is boundless in its beauty
Where children play with other creatures
No darkness, only eternal light and free from enmity
That you can rest in the placidity of its seashore
Then a meeting was called and everyone gathered in the garden
He was introduced by the man sitting on the throne
He saw the man’s face as magnanimous, charmingly simple and serene
A soothing voice and said, my son, there is no contract signing that you can hold your own
Only love will bind us as one
Written and posted also in voicesnet.com poetry site: 4 January 2010
According to Michael R. Burch:
What are haiku? In Japanese hai means "unusual" and ku means "verse" or "strophe." So haiku are, literally, unusual verses. Sir George Sansom called haiku "little drops of poetic essence." Harold Henderson called them "meditations." I think of haiku as evocative snapshots constructed of words: the flash photography of literature. Another useful definition might be "transcendent images." For example:
Grasses wilt:
the braking locomotive
grinds to a halt.
? Yamaguchi Seishi, loose translation by Michael R. Burch
In the poem above, wilting autumn grasses and a braking locomotive grinding to a halt represent time, aging and the approach of death. Two simple images speak worlds, in the hands of a skilled poet.
While Japanese haiku have three lines with syllable counts of 5-7-5, this is not a hard-and-fast rule in English, so in my translations I have used as many syllables as seemed necessary to convey the images, feelings and meanings of the poems, as I grok them.
Jim Horn
I shouldn't be playing with things that I have no knowledge of up
to this point. At least, I have a little knowledge of it now.
I thought I knew it;
Had known it well;
Then it flew off into space.
Jim Horn
We are not sure and have doubts.
Then we become an egotist and expert.
Yet, still lose sight of who we are.
Jim Horn
We chop down others
That will build ourselves up
In our own eyes and not others.
Jim Horn
Is better to build each other up.
In forest, we can be tall together.
Until someone cuts us all down.
Jim Horn
Form:
I used to dream of Frankenstein
When certain of some future glitch,
Now Donald Trump is Valentine
Of House’s Paul and Senate’s Mitch.
Yes, Trump is monster in this farce
Paul crazy-science, Mitch Igor,
The humor good though logic’s sparse,
Bombastic lies that fools adore.
Trump charges others with his crimes,
First charge makes echo sound remiss,
You sigh and blame it on the “Times”
Until he fondles what’s not “hiss.”
Yelled “Crooked Hill” till he was hoarse,
But still can’t make the charges stick
Has yet to share all incomes source,
He promised both, is Trump just “Dick?”(1)
Foundation that the Clintons formed,
With no malfeasance, quid pro quo,
The Trump foundation we’re informed
Thinks “Charity” just word you know.
Trump promised he’d pay for campaign,
So he’d be free of other’s sin...
Loaned funds instead, slight chance of pain
“Repaid” himself as “gifts” came in.
Can no one beat them at their game?
Or slow them as they stack the deck,
By cheating on Obama’s claim,
They plot the constitution’s wreck.
Where’s leadership to sooth and heal
Divided Nation held in thrall?
New leaders seek just to repeal,
The egotist, Neanderthal.
Now nepotism goes unchecked,
Can rich really restrain the rich?
Poor Tsar become our architect.
Whose head shares hole with ostrich.
You voted for him, now pay price,
Can coup be all that far away?
Your children’s lives the sacrifice,
Until then have a happy day!
Brian Johnston
January 10, 2017
A Poet’s Note:
(1) Another criminal politician like Richard Nixon?
The radiant shine leaves your aurora
dimming ever so quickly,
as in northern regions you are—borealis
falling into the southernmost Sahara
negative gradients descend—australis
The gloss of moral sanction
The glitter of a social butterfly
The prism of a love sonnet
I thought it would never end
False is an outward appearance
Black smoke puffed
charcoal ashes
spread amongst the masses
Snuffed are the soft eider white reminiscence
Left are the burnt embers of memory
Janus face so striking
truant tradeoffs at any cost
totality misleading,
yet, narcissism becomes you
A most plebeian diagnosis
Self-absorbed egotist
with delusions
of grandeur
You’ll popularize
popularity
while it condemns you,
A cowardice,
believing
YOU were a soldier
Yet you hid when all battled for you
a fair weathered friend is no
friend at all
You’ve painted a Renoir of you
an illusion, it's a Goya—El Greco!
A bruting intimacy restrained
a duality in an Art Deco
mask off, mask on
Disguise!
Hide what’s just another espy
I was wrong about you...
Words spread eloquently
A perennial drone others reality
If cruelty, are your real realms
Then I am just another casualty
Taken in by your devilish charms
when Moon and Sun collide
allied with the charred stars
A false hope maker
dream taker,
heartbreaker,
faker
Fare thee well...
You’re of them
No one special after all
a let down
draining
I want no
part of you