Long Flout Poems
Long Flout Poems. Below are the most popular long Flout by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Flout poems by poem length and keyword.
I reckon you could call me an old curmudgeon but that's alright!
I've been around four score and three and I have earned that right!
There are many things that annoy me but I'll mention just a few.
Hang in there with me as I attempt to get across my point of view!
Barkin' mutts and their inconsiderate masters drive me up the wall!
The droopy-poopy pants kids wear just makes my wrinkled hide crawl!
Cussin' in public by so-called ladies and gentlemen is so uncouth!
It annoys me that high-profile jerks don't set an example for our youth!
It nettles me when someone says they'll do somethin' and then they don't.
I'm annoyed with people who keep me waitin' which is usually their wont!
Careless drivers bug me especially jerks who think it's cute to tailgate,
And telephone solicitors who the serenity of my castle they desecrate!
I'm disturbed about those who flout the Constitution - 'tis an abomination!
It bothers me that we don't ask God's guidance for this troubled nation!
Pompous bureaucrats annoy me no end with their paucity of breedin'!
It rankles me to pay more taxes for which the guv'mint is ever pleadin'!
I ain't got no patience with a screamin' brat or a loud-mouthed dude,
(Nor people who murder the English language as I just did - it's so crude!)
I could ramble on and on ad infinitum about things that annoy me,
But I feel my blood pressure risin' so I had better let the subject be!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
(c) All Rights Reserved
Not for the contest.
Beauty
This thing called beauty
If I only knew
It must be my duty.
I demand a clue
To unravel its secret
If I only knew?
I would keep it
In my body and soul
Far more than a day.
I’d write on a scroll
Defining for all
You to unroll.
It is my call
To shout it out
From a high knoll.
I care not to flout
This unknown thing
For I undeniably doubt
That it is a King
On a golden throne
Rather his ring.
Can it be known?
Is it a mountain stream,
Or is it a stone?
Does it come in dreams
When thinking of you?
Your loving schemes
Can it be blue?
Is it something I see?
Is it always true?
Can it be
Something I feel
Like a churning sea?
A butterfly’s zeal,
A little child’s smile,
A sunset you steal?
Will it go on trial
If mistaken for lust?
Does it last for a while?
Will it combust?
Can it be held,
Not turned to dust?
And not withheld?
What is this thing
If not a word upheld?
Does it have wings?
Is it more than you see?
Yes, it even has flings.
It is found in the sea,
On mountains high,
Is more than it can be.
It is black and white,
The color of skin,
Reflections of light.
It is not a sin,
The music you sing.
Hidden within.
It is a string,
The words you pen,
To which you cling.
It is when
The portrait you paint
Ends in amen.
It is more
Than all these things
And even more
This thing called beauty.
To reclaim needless expenditure, allow the MP's to repay
No matter the total, let the law courts have their say
Now our economy has taken a turn for the best
Restructuring internally an injection of zest
Now, let's look after our pensioners, and place them in jail
They'll have showers, walks and hobbies, where their care won't fail
From unlimited free prescriptions, dental and medical aid
Wheel chairs aplenty, not a penny will they have paid
Constant video monitoring, instant assistance if they fell
Bedding washed and changed twice a week, soon they'll be well
Having someone check up on them, every twenty minutes or so
Bringing meals to their cells, watch the smile in them grow
Families visit in a suite, for their purpose and nothing more
Enjoying Snooker, Pool and Sky TV, and a Library to explore
Clothing would be provided, shoes, slippers, PJ's and Legal Aid
It's all free on request, oh my! certainly no charges to be made
They would also have gardens and lovely exercise yards
Computers, TV and Radio and as many as they want, phone cards
No longer would there be a Matron, a board of directors there will be
A code of conduct for the officers, strictly adhered to, you'll see
And what of the poor prisoners I hear your minds start to think
How will they cope, these poor souls left on the brink
Well, they'll get by with cold food, left alone unsupervised
All lights turned off at eight, as they will internally cry
Mind you they will shower once a week, live in a tiny little room
A figure of £600.00 a week they won't flout, with no getting out soon
http://www.thehighlanderspoems.com/political.php
On the roster for any thrill seeker in retro sneakers a eureka
Salsa eats & beats dash from the speaker splash of paprika
Anything else an imposter the don is chicharron in Costa Rica
Dominica tropical scenes greens means hullabaloo of callaloo
Equatorial Guinea don a pinny for panache of succotash tutorial
Who knew that Fiji do niche ceviche as good as you get in Peru
Decoder delish fish dish a glut of coconut and it’s called kokoda
Askance glance France may perchance be the gourmet dance
Escargot or Fruit De Mer to share the flair the care in a trance
Even in the present effervescent present food of the peasant
Cassoulet or tartiflette..pot au feu get a baguette jamon beurre
Concur not happenstance foody romance your soul will enhance
One could buckle or just chuckle as you gawk at a pork knuckle
Thick of neck sturdy nerdy stock eating speck or flock for hock
Out and about can’t flout the rule everything goes with sauerkraut
Old school burst all banger no clanger meat lubed into tubes wurst
Can’t scoff hats do doff to gourmand nirvana trough of jollof in Ghana
Phew not the voodoo or hoodoo crew but FuFu oh & some marijuana
Not a trend setter but better appetite whetter tomatoes with onions & feta
Deceives no peeves big hitter apricity of the simplicity.. pita & vine leaves
At your leisure forget the rest a beset treasure chest of pleasure and zest
Charter boat smarter gloat starter roe of cods food of the Gods Taramasalata
Meek weak bleak then Greek geek tweak should seek best test for any guest
Sands of time runneth out
stout whistleblowers must apply clout
to affect the commander in chief forced...
send him back his favorite mantra,
that churlish, childish and cheapish tricky lout
arrogant, defiant, haughty... without doubt
exceeded probation apprenticed, I shout
out, his poor performance absolute zero
as presidential material about
effective electing trout
as huff fish hint leader of America
rather less so - hook, line and sinker
"FAKE" laurels he cannot hard dilly tout
running democracy regarding
United States of America aground,
while out dough faced mouth blowout
vitriolic vile, noxious, crude... invectives
his anger doth spout
frothily fuming, lividly
lashing, rabidly raging...
trademark MAGA flout
sulking with juvenile pout
vamoose with him
and ilk poisoning
Lady Liberty's body with gout
cantankerous malignant cancerous canker
breeding, bleeding, besotting devout
dereliction evincing hangdog look
barking, growling, snapping... snout
fondling, groping, harassing...,
analogous to pedophile scout
wily, vehemently, unseemly, sacrilegious
behaviour in apropos devout
floundering, grounding, hijacking...,
ship of state into sauerkraut
agent provocateur on warpath
doomsday clock inching closer
to armageddon drought
will prevail across Earth
global thermonuclear fallout.
Don (ta) Ask Me 'Bout Exacerbation Of Trumpeted "FAKE" News
written September 19th, 2018, and following words still ring (more true) today – exactly six years later.
The then forty fifth prez
of United States of America
best get sent packing
to Lake woebegone
forced to coexist amidst University
of Pennsylvania Dutch
men in breeches
(May Apple lie)
swampy netherlands awash
with bipedal hominid
sucker punching leeches
where within every
whirled wide webbed
nook and cranny
Nietzscheism reaches,
and survival of fittest
iz basic credo,
and dogmatic ethos,
analogous to an apprentice teaches
a most frightful distortion of facts
and make up mistruths
indiscriminately bandied about
said alarmist blatant LIES
blithely stated with dangerous clout
appearing oblivious and totally
clueless without a doubt
punctuating with doubt Thomas
pettifogging questionable details
FALSE exclamations
generating fear with mindless
ignorance exaggerating protocols
as he doth emphatically flout
begetting, engendering,
and inflicting emotional gout
nothing accomplished by
hash tagging him a "LOUT"
and more opprobrious affect
would ensue anew
undeservedly praising him,
whose animus toward
Democrats would brew
but no matter what (tick)
tack toe taken,
he got nary a blue's clue
about vital issues,
which lack of insight
even Scooby Doo
would agree, heck the Americans
may as well install an emu
with more positive
forthcoming results,
cuz dis dope head like hellacious,
ludicrous, pernicious evils
in Pandora's box flew
his every actions
destroying essential glue
that sets this country apart
approximating Democracy, where hue
mans comprise melting pot,
whether Eskimos (er...
rather Inuits) in their
(fast melting) igloo
gentile, heathen, or Jew
experience limitless
pasta billet teas
applying their new
dill (aptitude) reaching
titular status of parvenu,
especially trumping proper, "P's"
and most every "Q"
before Wharton peer review.
Does it really matter what we do, what we say
Bombarding ourselves in others lives this way
Does it really matter to share our words
Powerful nouns, perennial verbs.
Idle information brings evolution ?
Extraneous ranting is others solution?
To make profit from or boast to fame
Since when are we meant to all be the same ?
Is it our God given right to mould one another ?
To preach, to teach and control one another ?
As ego and vanity burns through and out
Perhaps information we can do without?
When it’s natural to grow with changes and nature
Enlightening and brightening autonomy greater,
Now wonder ‘essentials’ uncertain, no doubt
Less information we may live without.
To give and take, the giver and taker
When the finale of life is one and the maker
Should we not stand solo uniquely on own
Without others effecting our journey back home?
Maybe I’ll rest, Maybe I will sing my song
Maybe there’s another path to travel along
Maybe I will thrive and maybe sprout
Without information I can do without.
Maybe you’ll sit and maybe you’ll see
May you have peace and simply just be
For simple it great and never to flout
Mere information, with or without.
I inflict the exact triumph of
wisdom
My heartbeat confides in the
mist of conflicts
I see myself as pawn
In the world where humans
controlled my destiny
I've lacked a sense of power
And life became a mental
causality
Where my misfortunes are
learnt and labelled as
agitations
I observe in the mist of
climates of futility
To embrace my optimism
and not fixate on the deviance
Of the exclusion of normality
Life has suddenly drew a circle
To shut me out
Heretic, rebelled
A thing to flout about
I seek to understand rather
than be understood.
Perpetuating my future
Contemplated my tomorrow
And dismantled my past
To live for now....
Pray tell, who tore the neighbors’ flowers out?
What sort of child fell madly on their bed?
Surely one unruly and ill-bred!
What had it been that made this child pout
and then go out and ever dare to flout
the rule of being mannerly – to shred
those pretty blooms? Found out, she homeward sped.
She stood accused. The neighbors had no doubt.
And did this little girl’s heart fill with guilt
for her misconduct? She could not deny
what she had done. Why had such wrath been spilt
on flowers? Soon all knew what went awry!
Her father’s disregard had made her wilt,
so flowers felt her rage. I know. ‘Twas I.
Aug. 1, 2020
for the 'STRAND COMPLETELY NEW (16),any form,any theme' Poetry Contest
(a story related to me by my mother because I was so young I do not remember this!)
Rumi Quote "Doubt is a precipice on the way to God. Blessed is he who is freed from its bonds."
__________________________________________
Walking toward the edge, facing a gray sky,
Paradise magnificence is dazzling below.
Goals are shrouded amid dense, rimy snow,
Amid scarlet stones, serenading scary lullaby.
Mountain summits catch nascent sunbeams,
Time for either primal bitterness or delight.
Flagrantly feeling fearful of a factious fright,
Falls fully into the recess of sliced streams.
Positioned on the edge of annihilation,
I was looking into the distance of my mind.
I am seated and pensive, on muse behind,
Have I the resolve to move toward obligation?
Yeah, the road ahead is all thorny and broken,
So I'm trapped, admiring it from a distance.
However, I am unable to reverse my insistence,
for the route I've taken is empty and betoken.
I've no action as to dwell in confine of truth,
Observing dread and splendor of doubt.
Skilled in leaving to safety despite flout,
Wish to dive into the dimness, still in my youth.
Fear the ambiguous; it is nothing but dread,
If not brave enough to tackle a rough path.
As I felt anxious at this point, unfit to lath.
Still, what path can I decide to sail ahead?
Should I return to weird safety or leave?
Is the charm of the enigma alluring to me?
What can I do? not a clear path to foresee
Yet, such ways will always be a lie to weave.
But I must purport to persist on this precipice.
Hinders the impending gravity of genesis.