Long Frump Poems

Long Frump Poems. Below are the most popular long Frump by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Frump poems by poem length and keyword.


Premium Member Wild Muhdo Friday

On Friday night, when shadows tilt,
The fellows gather on the silt
To play the game of Muhdo wild,
Where rules are strange and brains are biled.

First comes Bimble, long and sleek,
With a head shaped like a teapot spout,
His left hand is a single leek,
His right, a mallet stout.
His feet are broad like wooden spoons,
He hums odd tunes to silver moons.

Beside him sits Grumple-Gloo,
Whose noggin resembles a folded shoe.
His fingers are like spiral vines,
His left foot stumped, his right aligned
Like three small pears upon a tray—
He chuckles as he joins the play.

And Snargle, wobbly, grand, and tall,
Has a head shaped like a bowling ball!
His palms are broad as flying trays,
His left foot hops, his right foot sways,
Formed just like a crescent moon,
He slumps upon his chair by noon.

How play they Muhdo? Simple, see!
You roll three acorns in the sea,
Then toss a button through a ring,
And flub the song the finches sing!
To win, one must first slap his knee,
And yell "FLUM-GLUB!" at precisely three,
While balancing a buttered tray—
Thus Muhdo claims its winner today!

They speak in squeaks and burbling blips:
"Oh frump the ziggle!" Bimble drips.
"More fritzle-froth!" shouts Grumple-Gloo,
"The wizzle-wump belongs to you!"

They feast on pickled thimble-crabs,
And soggy, fizzing jellied-dabs,
Slurping lukewarm beetle-juice,
And fermented dandelion juice,
Crunching down on salted stone,
And chewing sour marrow-bone.

At last, bold Bimble slaps his knee!
He shouts "FLUM-GLUB!" at three-p-m,
He drops his mallet, drops his leek,
And lets out one dramatic squeak!

Upon the news of victory won,
He spins around three times in fun,
Stuffs a teapot in his ear,
And gallops off with hearty cheer!
Form: Rhyme


Number Forty Six White House Occupant Re

Number forty six - White House occupant re:
guarding President elect Joe Biden

Within mein hermitage
now dwells one euphoric troglodyte who wept
upon hearing unbelievable news,
(albeit at snail's pace schlepped
finally proclamation emancipation
gave reasonable rhyme yours truly to ejaculate
(not prematurely), subsequently I leapt

into the air, and kept
myself aloft completing
one after another sumersault and except
for minor nuisance of gravity
nevertheless landed feet first and crept
back into mine mancave adept
to survive alone in the wilderness.

Seventy four million popular votes
tallied across country,
gives ample reason to grind hips and bump,
(cuz the most votes
cast for any presidential candidate in history),
which Republican contender finally plopped
hook line and anchored

courtesy Taj Mahal replica sinker
into dustbin of history
good riddance electorate voted out
loutish oaf, which voters chose to dump
best mandated to cavort with zoot suited frump
on any given Wednesday available to hump
rotund barenaked lady merging
into humongous protoplasmic lump.

Caught red handed concerning
more'n where's the beef
stole 2016 election
under nose of Hillary Clinton
abused role, when tasked
as commander in chief

good ole Charlie Brown nemesis
caused nothing but grief,
hence yours truly quite elated
upon occasion when figurative new leaf
turned over and booted out
as more onerous than Baghdad thief.

Hit the ground running
with nary a second to waste
Joe Biden, Kamala Harris and company
proving their steely eyed mettle
after victory lap Democrats did taste

usher in COVID-19 game plan
bolstering pandemic defences
where prior administration sorely misplaced
priorities United States Lady Liberty
wantonly, undeservedly, subsequently
her reputation disgraced.

Hope springs eternal - ah tis amazing grace
yours truly suddenly brimming with optimism
able bodied diverse cabinet to erase
formerly inept sycophants with intentions base
running amok within White House

at long last competent candidate won the race
adieu Donald Trump, who
did disappearing act at Mar-A-Lago without a trace
sore loser teed off absent American
delivering his humiliating defeat coup de grâce.
Form: Rhyme

Tandoori or Tangerine Tan shorts no5 final jive

Still hope we can cope

With the nope

Don’t give a damn plan

From that Tandoori tan

Obscene Tangerine dope

Jackanory Mandarin Man


That trope..like to be Pope

Go out on a limb..got the vim..scope 

To make him of the grim...dim..whim..mope

Just give Mr Grope enough Rope


Opined women..a frump 

If they mind.. some bump & grind

Half inching while pinching their rump


The darkness descends


Besotted with anything cosseted

Rotted or garrotted by design

But sign on the dotted line

Raise a 'Stein" of wine


Knaves..slaves.. saved

From the craze & blaze 

Of this moral maze & haze

Extinguished by depraved waves 

From distinguished graves


Denies his demise is nigh

Popularity sky high he lies


Bliss as the remiss abyss 

Of hiss and diss ends

Thanks to a sly bit of 

Wry Fab Four rapport


No not you say hello...but yes I say goodbye

Off with his head the French might have said

Cos we've read we'll get by instead 

With a little help from his (dead) friends
Form: Rhyme

Premium Member Are You Hearing and Smelling Bs

Down on his hands and knees is Frump
But which end is his Rump!
Both ends are putting out so much hot air
To guess which, I wouldn’t dare
Making his stink smell good is an art.
But not hard to do when your audience isn’t smart
He changes ends so fast and well
From which end it comes, is hard to tell
To put your head in a daze
He puts it out from both ends to create a haze
If he gets caught for what he did
He passes the buck or tells a fib
If it smells bad or goes the wrong way
It was done by the Democrats, he will say
I hear all his raves and rants
Go home and change your pants
When he’s pinned down he turns on the bull
Just wait, the FBI will see whose diaper is full

2/28/2018
© Eve Roper  Create an image from this poem.
Form: Rhyme

Premium Member Emma Rutledge 1876-1914

Emma Rutledge

1876-1914

Greetings my friends, 

From this forgotten frump,

This long-dead girl who now haunts

This yawning ghost garden here.

In life, my tongue tasted many terrible lies;

All just worthless words from men,

Men I’d just as soon see dead

While I was alive still.

Just as soon see them buried deep in the dirt,

One after the other,

Here in these fragrant acres of hard silence.

One might think that a smart girl like me,

Might have learned a thing or two,

While breathing still;

Learned that the proffered promises 

Of erstwhile cads about town,

Had as much value and reliability

As a sucking sandpit!

But ladies, pray tell my friends,

You know all too well what I speak of!

We all know of their irresistible charms,

And we all know of their universal mendacity!

Even now, damn them all!

“Stay away from me! Stay away!”

But alas, there is some consolation,

Some slight soulful comfort,

Here in this yawning ghost garden;

Here beyond the spiritual membrane:

They are all sleeping now, sleeping 

Sleeping as motionless as bears sleep,

Deep, deep in the icy twilight 

Of forgotten existence.
Form: Epitaph


Premium Member My Dream Girl

My dream girl's not a doll, no Kewpie cutie,
Or an heiress, or an actress on the screen.
She's neither nun nor acrobat,
Nor wears fine feathers in her hat,
No frump for Trump Republican,
No beauty queen.

She's not a princess trapped inside an ivory palace
Awaiting rescue by a valiant knight like me.
She doesn't dazzle like aurora borealis,
Or sing arias from "Carmen" like Ms. Callas,
Or practice taekwondo,
Or even know tai chi.

But the girl I dream about has joy and laughter,
And her heart's as full of love as it can be.
When my spirit's low, she lifts it to the rafter,
And I know we'll have a happily ever after
Every time I dream of her
And she of me.
Form: Rhyme

When spoonerism packs punch

___________________________
Profanity in politics is on the rise what with Trump’s foul mouth: ‘open the fu*kin’ Strait’; ‘I’m screaming my as* off’; ‘Shi*hole countries’; ‘Full of sh*t’, and many more. So, it is apt that he gets as much as he gives for his obscenities and hair-brain political hocus-pocus. Washington Post finds: 93% of Trump speeches in his second term contained at least one vulgar word (from 40% in his first term). Yea, he deserves this nomenclature Tuck Frump, an apt spoonerism.   
____________________ 
TUCK FRUMP emblazoned on T-shirts,
I hail US youth and its guts
For this Spoonerism,
Love of free speech, freedom,
Which, in my land for its lack hurts.
Gutsy free speech is fine
Save when crosses the line—
What this loud, foul mouth often blurts.
______________________________
Happenings | 27.05.2026 | American, freedom, speech, spoonerism, Limerick
Form: Limerick

Get a Premium Membership
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a Premium Membership.
Book: Diverse Voices: The Poetry of Human Rights and the Pursuit of Peace