Long Gloat Poems
Long Gloat Poems. Below are the most popular long Gloat by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Gloat poems by poem length and keyword.
Any foodie on the brink
Of getting moody thinks
Of the dear dairy panacea
The culinary kinks
The cultural links
Gourmet high jinx
Of no.. not Cullen skink
CHEESE
As drinks clink then sink
Where the nods & the winks
Go to the food of the Gods
The stuff that really really stinks
CHEESE
A noble global endeavour
Arty farty dolcelatte party
Comte & cheddar
Smutty nutty double header
CHEESE
Palette caged by a rare
Cave aged Gruyere
Who can forget..appetite whet
Heat light stand manned..expands..
Milky glue or is it silky Moo Goo
Fanned..hands pulling strands
Eat not..planned fondue
Best damned bet
Always get a Raclette
CHEESE
Prouder of Gouda
Or louder Parmesan fan
Even when its powder?
Tilting to the built in love
For Stilton.. never wilting
Hard the calling card
Or more a Roquefort sort
Taught soft held aloft
French can’t bench moulds
Aristocratic blue vein
Dramatic wench holds court
Emphatic stench & stain
CHEESE
Whatever floats your boat
Maybe Goat gets your vote
Or those in the know
Gloat..chose sheep & Manchego
CHEESE
Young or well hung
Given time in the cellar
But won’t sneer at Paneer
Mozzarella can be stellar
Even give a damn
About dear Madame Edam
CHEESE
If you're of that whining ilk
Got that dining disease
Opining it’s just mouldy milk
Having a dig..you big tease…
Well won’t try to appease
CHEESE
Wary of the not rated
Scary squirting lube
You squeeze with ease
Flirting fairy out of a tube
Ill fated.. pre grated or
Diced into a nice cube
CHEESE?
Or drastic vices
Plastic elastic slices
Could go for Dairy Lea
Fell under the Babybel spell
Or pray tell maybe
Its Le Vache qui Rit
CHEESE?
Always a winning wheeze
Ideal at the beginning
Or end of a meal
No ratty ways of thinning
Natty diets lose to fatty riots
Choose ways of sinning
A ruse to amuse..
MORE CHEESE PLEASE
He says grinning
P.S If eating cheese before bed
Gives you a crappy nightmare
So what if you have fed
On cheese in these dreams
No scrappy schemes in your head
Led to days with rays of sunbeams
Teams of happy memes instead
Well it seems only fair
Come by the Sword, Die by the Sword
They stood in ranks a thousand long
High upon the hill
The Roman legion, fierce and strong
With sword and lance and bill
The Briton hoards below them stare
With wild fanatic eyes
They jeer the foe and beg them dare
With anger and despise
Come and fight you cowardly foe
Come and meet your fate
We’ll cut you down, row by row
Send you to heavens gate
With scoff and scorn the Romans yawn
What empty threats you speak
We’ll rip you limb from limb this morn
You’re scrawny, thin and weak
Down below, laughter roars
Your bellies, we will slice
We’ll lay you dead, in your scores
Come prove your men not mice
We will arrive and make you pay
For indolence and taunt
You will eat every word you say
When they come back to haunt
It’s easy up on high to gloat
But everybody knows
It’s our intent to cut each throat
And leave you for the crows
But when we make our move towards
There’ll be no shy nor rests
We’ll plunge our sharp and bloody swords
Deep in those ragbag chests
Think of your girlfriends, mothers, wives
For them there’ll be no gains
Will be, as we, cut short their lives
When we spill out your brains
For one last time you’ll see the sky
Cause you’re not leaving whole
When heathen head is raised up high
On legion victory pole
Gasp deep upon your final breath
Invader of our land
Your destiny this day is death
By rude and brutish hand
With sword and lance and bill
All break into their stride
With voices booming still
Blood fills the wide divide
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March forward to today
Though forces re-arranged
And ask them in what way
Anything has changed
In the early days of March, at the very start of spring
I saw people plant roses, and praise the love they would bring
Well, at that point I had been saving a special sort of seed
And that spring I would plant it, even though there where warnings, I did not heed
And now loves rose is dead, and with it, burnt, is loves creed
Woe! That seed I had saved, held close and took care of from a very early age
That seed I had obtained from an accidental meeting, on the swings, at a very early age
Now I fear that this seed is ruined, and I fear I’ve lost a friend
It’s a fear that digs deep into my cold, melancholy core, I can’t pretend
For it was a beautiful friendship, that I never intended to end
Yes, I had planted this seed in the early days of March, the month of my birth
And though at first the rose was shy, it slowly stemmed out of the earth
But it was soon growing faster, faster even than the fabled roses of lore
It grew with such a haste that one might have thought that it wouldn’t grow anymore
Yes, this rose, that might have frown too fast, had put love in my core
Now, on the last day of March, the very date on which, many years ago, I was born
This rose gave me a gift as it hid from me every thorn
And this rose, it seemed, had given me the will to succeed
In my life, I had finally had the confidence to take the lead
I loved, more than anything, the rose that sprouted out of this seed
And the month that followed, I can’t lie, was bliss
And it’s time I will, forever more, miss
For the month following, I regret to say, my rose died
Indeed, it was the only time that, for a flower, I had ever cried
It left me weeping, with no ego left to gloat, with no self pride
Yes, early in May is where you may date my death
Call me death, for without that rose, I’m not living, though I still draw breath
Lay me on my death bed, and let my quietly pass on, away
For any place without that rose is no place I want to stay
So please, lay me on my death bed, and leave! Let me lay
Woe, that rose died, and I can only guess why
Perhaps I watered it too much, and forced it to be too un-shy
Perhaps I was too ignorant to say the words it needed to hear
Yes, perhaps, perhaps, that all I can say
And I will say it all the while
While I walk away
Farewell
Goodbye
Good
Bye
Adulterous besieging capstone damnation
exploitation foists groping, heaving
insidiously jerking
knowingly lunges
machinations notoriously nymphomaniacal
officiating penile quests
rapaciously, sadistically
tenaciously, unstoppably
vasocongested wickedness
Xerses yawped zeolously.
***************************
All throughout history of man/woman kind
ascendent civilizations extensively gouged,
impailed, kindled, murderous outrages
quashing sacred urges, women yearned.
***************************
Versatile thematic refrain punctuating nubiles
maximized looting, pillaging, raping
visited upon females via decimating fountainhead
guarding brestworks of vestal virgins,
innocent youths (little boys and girls).
***************************
Twenty first century *****Sapiens male population continue to applaud, covet, extol, gloat, invoke, kickstart, molest outrages, quest savagely thee unbridled wedded yoke appropriating coquettishly enshrined gals imposing killing mandates okaying queasy sordid ugly wretchedness yanking aborhent behavior denigrating, fulminating, harrassing, jawdropping lewdness, nabbing prized rearends, twerking, violently whiplashing, yelling zingers.
***************************
Now not a day elapses with instances women claim untoward advances, and/or forced coercion to satiate and temporarily slate the sexual thirst informing prononced picadilloes (philandering if married pompous head honcho demands appeasement of coitus, ********, indecent lowball outrageous ribald uncouth x-rated animalistic, carnal, feral, gonadal, immoral, kleptomaniacally misogynistic, narcissistic, opportunistic, pathetically reprehensible, torturously undervaluing, validating virility within Yankee Doodle, haply lambasting, proudly touting, vaunted wayfair zest.
***************************
The above meandering stream of consciousness attempted to amplify, a recent spate of accusations figuratively slapped against a male sex mongers, who specifically rule roost, and blithely, demandingly, forcefully, hideously, impishly, killingly, malignantly, opprobriously, powerfully, repeatedly, terminally, vindictively, wantonly, yearningly acrimoniously belittle, demean flagrantly, harshly insinuate keeping mindful, not publicize rabid tawdry unwanted villainous withering zeal!
Sand in sheets
scuffing skin and reminding
last nights attire reaks like bonfire
a hundred days like this
a sea of endless laughs rolling
like filmreels infinitely looped fantastic
Their cars rolled in, shiney and pretentious
personalized plates waxed clever wit
crowding this small town to gloat in sand-side castles
Yacht club yucks shelling bucks like bayou crayfish
condescending, fun loving, brash Chicago touristas
Bless their daughters who filed in sassy
chin up, chest out trustafarians
scents of coconut lotion and clinique perfume
wafting through our warm lake breeze reality
Giddy and loving our rough edged style
intending to slum with townies, like we minded...
smiles glowing in those bonfire nights
mischievious and promising...
Every action thereafter defied catholic school education
...benificiaries of repression rebellion...like we minded!
Lake Michigan was paces from my bedroom window
These sparrow serenaded mornings..
...morphing into something amphibious
when the alewives were raked, we lay lazy
Bodies melted into sand~~ sated with sun
splashing back to cool off in sandbars
coolers anchored in those cool waters
taking long pulls off a perspiring Heineken
Beach days concluded with seagulls off to hunt
Squaking as they ascended into pink and orangecicle skies
The water shimmered like a million illuminated snakes
...side winding-mirrored the suns final say
Couples pulled up to Harbor landing to see the show
heads melted into one mass in windshields all around
lovers seeing nature's beauty more vibrant as lovers do...
The sunset brings a new purple backdrop
squaks are replaced with crickets chirps
Bright-then-fading green...BRIGHT-then fading green
Children gathered fireflies in jars laughing
Ice cream stained faces aglow with captive glee
Then to black and star filled, became the sky
we returned to cooler sand pushing between our toes
scurrying through dunegrass seeking driftwood and brush
creating a structure to take to flame...a science for proud boyscouts
There we gathered with newfound gals from cross lake 'burbs
sunrise would end our night tonight...awaking to lifeguards scolding.
Inspired by John Heck's Summer Contest!!
1/27/21
"Styrofoam"
It's not hormones, testosterone
Or Pheromones
I was at the crossroads
Moved towards what was familiar or unknown
Never did any good to postpone
I can really feel it in my bones
Nearby all these Madrones
Time has shown
In and out of all these biomes
The elements shaping the land and stones
Hung up the phone
Then came the dial tone
I've sinned, and I've atoned
I regressed, and I have grown
Sippin’ out of Styrofoam
In and out of different tidal zones
Had to get it on my own
It almost always was homicide if their was a broken Hyoid bone
It was always kept a secret or widely known
They're really focused on drones
And clones
Yet they also want to continually probe
And spy on the entire globe
Was close to the cosmos
As well as the locker of Davy Jones
From here to Nome
Always been a rogue
After the motherlode
Sometimes I was on paved streets, or often I was on dirt roads
Staying composed
Solving problems with or without the use of codes
Before the doors are closed
Meanwhile, people still having continual episodes
Got it done smoothly, or I just bulldozed
Those
That attempted to oppose
And stick their nose
Into my business, that's a no
Eeny, Meeny, Miny, Moe
Catch a tiger by the toe
Took them out with the undertow
Quickly they sunk below
Or by going blow for blow
A.K.A. Toe to toe
The same could be said for many, including so and so
The flesh and organs beginning to decompose
Food for insects, vultures and crows
It's not a hoax
Did the least or I did the most
Put it out there or was a ghost
Got it done easily or cut it close
It's gross
Far too often was comatose
Because I overdosed
Couldn't stop myself, or follow advice from my folks
I know, what a joke
Even though I've been woke
I couldn't stop my addictions, or say "Adios!"
More than just words being wrote
It'd do you some good to take note
Humans at each others throats
Quick to gloat
And to go right for the throat
Especially over your affiliation and how you vote
I either did or didn't have a rain coat
Humans quick to find a scapegoat
We either were or were not in the same boat
Stood sturdy like an oak
Behind continual clouds of smoke
And enough alcohol to make a moat
So that a boat could stay afloat
She’s dead
But will always stay alive
A beacon for everyone with a gripe
Thatcher snatcher was their war cry
When with apparent vigour
She tore asunder all society held dear
A divisive strong willed fighter
With femininity covering a steely frame
She moved gracefully among men
A force of reckoning
In a world sphere where enemies are held dear
She finally met her maker
But will never die
Her legacy outlives her presence
A formidable opponent now in a grave
With glee they gloat
Ding dong the wicked witch is finally dead
Praises and condemnation come from all over the globe
Some will assess her on her overall impact
Both then and until now
Others will always remember wrongs
That were brutally inflicted
On an apparently obedient society and country
Dragging us away from our empire building
Death always calls
He will not be out smarted
No matter the heights in politics one reaches
An end of a life
Often brings a renewed interest in the past
The bandwagon has catapulted her
Back into The limelight
When she was almost forgotten
To divide and rule seemed to have been her best skill
Her un-bending no alternative mantra
Caused much ill-will
Yet the country prospered
The right to buy scheme made
Home ownership possible
A vote buying scheme
That made the middle class grow
Pity the milk tokens are what condemns her so
She hammered a few who with
Entrenched special interest
Mangled the country
Stagnating both the economy
And society
The belief in individuality
Coupled with free market economics
Set up a house of cards that blew over
Long before she breathed her last
Virulent machismo
Where the sharks circled
Even when they smelt no blood
Overcame her eventually
She was of course partly to blame
But no one has ruled since as she did
A woman in a man’s world was she
Wielding much power
Over the men that surrounded her
Over Her party and ultimately a short sighted country
To the pinnacle of both party
And country she rose
Her handbag swung far and wide
Her three times victory
A testimony to her longevity
And he ability to play the system
She didn't invent
Rest In peace
Or pieces Maggie
You came
You Conquered and
Have now left the stage
Your legacy will be fought over incessantly
What does one do, when they feel forgotten?
What good are tears unseen or sobs unheard
and when the tree of liberty seems to be rotten
because they’ve been dismissed and rejected at a word?
What does one do, when they’re silenced
for viewing the world through their own eyes?
What does one do when they’re trapped and tied down
when they’re kicked and there’s no help around?
What does one do, when frightened?
When chains are thrown o’er them and tightened?
When prayers are raised but seem unheard
when one feels abandoned and alone in the world?
What does one do, when self-evident truths
get wiped away in anonymous booths,
and the winners, gloat and show no mercy
because the people have spoken
and whatever one does, will bring controversy
so tell me…what does one do?
What does one do, when threatened?
When dismayed or betrayed and their back to the blade
and the liberty bell is cracked, and rings no more
at least not for them, and not on these shores,
because for some it’s better to be right,
then to worry for others, or to fight in their fight.
So I ask, what does one do when singled out
for their religion, or color or body or mind
when the rest of the world seems so suddenly blind?
What does one do when their neighbors turn
an apathetic eye to the border wall
symbolically standing as a reminder to all
that unalienable only applies to un-aliens?
That life, liberty and pursuit of happiness
are not rights at all, but prizes to earn.
You should have chosen more thoughtfully where to be born
if you wanted rights beyond struggle and scorn.
What does one do, when freedom’s flame dims out;
when lady liberty gets smothered in a pompous mist?
What does one do to pretend it’s ok
when the rhetoric prevailing on any given day
is a torrent of doubt about their hard-earned place
and could orphan their children, and threatens to chase
them all “back whence they came.”
Tell me, from your anonymous place,
what would you do?
Would you peacefully sit and hope for the best,
and put your trust in your fellow man?
Would you “come together as one”
with those who voted that you don’t matter?
Would you wave freedom’s banner aloft in the breeze,
as your freedom was being seized?
No seriously, what would you do?
11/11/16
Juniper blended with the richness of Mohagany
as the well soaped Maidens accompliced
in the impness of Dawn.
A strong coffee poulticed a hint of Cinnamon,
and Clove prepared expectations.
The morning fog was lifting her skirt
in a slow tease, as both veil and curtain.
A suspenseful reveal that caromed
with the steam of my cup.
A main event about to be undressed,
and redressed with the Maidens.
I johned in, in that usual unpure-,pure- folly.
Knew it was welcomed guest,
practically an extorter, to creep in at any hour,
in to steal a gloat in unwarded cameo.
This inadvertently but unthwarted- headtable-
"honored guest", that shared more and more
in my ritual of daydreams, that intertwined
also into some of my more run of the milled needs.
Melding more and more,
as a dysfunctional elixir of happenstance,
and of either need or greed.
I found them also, the "Barista Girls",
like a gaggle of something curious- in cackle,-
buying entrance with teased looks mocking,-
my inflammation of inflection,-
with their vixened vexation,
-but also in snare; flared to wonder their wander
into mine stare.
One of a thawing malaise,- of curiousity shops
and shared spaces.
Places:
Coffee bean aroma and aproned bread
trinkets- become a "suitable"
showcase.
I realized its humorous "colorance"
in poetic knowledge's abionce.
"Man shall not live by bread alone."
But the scone was a genius match.
Something to chew on.
A fitting poetry, (binding really)
by the Master Story Setter- that forbode,-
the Protaganist himself and also let me know
that, 'he is aware of my dirty thoughts.':
To prop my stage and to reflect as a mirror does.
To hold in check the soul.
How the pillows fluffed.
My thoughts blanketed me,
"tucked me to the chin" with their silkys
and fuzzy warmths.
Feathers that cascade in a rockabye lull-fashion.
My system of down.
Downy.
Snuggle.
Oh women will be my downfall.
Vipers that push their venom.
"I think God created coffee and tea
with Poet in mind."
I rebuked my thoughtful sins to Him
and left a healthy tip for them.
This is only the beginning i say
as i lay stone to build a
foundation
To rise our empire
And lift our entire nation
Turn off the world and use your
imagination
And listen to the shadowy voice
of reason
Am I the only spark yearning to
ignite change
This isn't a poem or a rap, no
where on the vocal range
No where on the map but I tell
you this fights staged
Realizing the same **** ends up
on the front page
Why are we so enveloped with
crazy and deranged
Why can't we get past our
materialistic selfish ways
See man down and our society
leaves him where he lays
Nobody needs a handout
except those who can afford to
pay
Along with those who work the
system and sit on their ass all
day
Contributing to nothing leaving
no responsibility to be had
The way I see it this system is
a dead beat dad
Who doesn't acknowledge he
has a child
Unless the child can support
him and it makes the child
mad,
Then the child acts up and they
say he's being bad
So they put him in time out and
make the other children hand
over their lunches
But when the child is hurt he
has to mend his own crutches
When the child is sick he has
buy his own medicine
And dads nowhere around to
give discipline
Clearly dad don't care
Clearly something is wrong
here
I'm talkin to walls cuz I swear
to god I see them breathin
That rust stain I thought was
were blood was seepin
My world is alive but why is it
dieing
Am I the reason or am I just
surviving
While this place perishes
And I find myself crying
Are we not trying
To save ourselves from
drowning or are we to busy
individually to notice our
surroundings
Living day to day as if there's
no reason to pray for tomorrow
We've been numbed to the pain
and sorrow
By blindly passing by the
coldest of hollows
Disregarding compassion in
exchange for self growth
Coincides with leaving the rest
with no hope
When there's nothing left to
whom you gonna gloat
When the lake is dry how the
hell you gonna float
This is only the beginning I say
as I paddle the first stroke