Long Prat Poems
Long Prat Poems. Below are the most popular long Prat by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Prat poems by poem length and keyword.
Winding path through the tawny wood
Hanging branches form a shadowy hood
Dangling vines each spindled fold lace
Slippery, svelte moss cloaks the base
The vented light peeps through fibrous trellis
Addled mind with beauty to encase
Swerving shadows creep down the swaying lattice
Each truncated step to efface
Fallen leaves weave a sprawling mat
Soft soles o'er silky fibers prat
Trodding o'er tender mushrooms, rendered scat
Listless feet trample each groove; probe each slat
Restless roots the rugged edges trace
The undergrowth crowds the shrinking space
Meandering route into sleepy hollow careens
Whittled bushes, saw grass the stillness gleans
Through the swaddled cradle padded soles calmly pace
The rhythmic lullaby of whistling wind heart doth embrace
Through stunted hollow into bracketed thicket
Spiny branches throw up a cumbersome picket
Each spiked shrub colludes to form a sticky wicket
Bristling, twining band is serenaded by singing cricket
Struggling through the gristly garden
My stinging heels bleed for reprieve, pardon
Just ahead, a carpeted, emerald meadow streams
My sodden feet dance into the velvety seams
What is it about American divorcees
and the British Royal Family?
Sadly it never ends well.
The Duke and Duchess of woke!
Harry, what were you thinking?
Harry, what have you become?
Harry, Why? Why? Why?
Harry, she’s no Princess Di.
After Michelle and Hillary and Nancy
your precious commoner bride
is the most insufferable bit-ch.
Harry, you are a spoiled brat!
Harry, you are an entitled prat!
Harry, on the Queen you shat!
Harry, Why? Why? Why?
Harry, she’s no Princess Di.
And now we have the big interview
with that infuriating Oprah
so poor Meghan Debacle can tell
us all how mistreated she is,
and how victimised she is
by her haters and her tormentors.
Girl, what a narcissist you are.
Girl, what a diva and what a liar.
Spare us all your fake tears!
Spare us all your fake fears!
Spare us your racist tales!
Spare us your lectures and rails!
God save the Queen from you
and that ginger whinger too!
O Harry, Why her? Why?
O Harry, Why? She’s no Princess Di.
Written: March 2021
Wrote this 18 months ago
but after recent pod casts
I just couldn’t help myself.
Good morning you good people
Welcome to Designer School
Where we carefully teach you
How to manipulate life’s fools.
Following the success of
Jeans with Designer Holes
Our next project will be
Shoes with porous soles.
So the water seeps in
So the feet don’t sweat,
Only disadvantage being
Feet get cold and wet.
We are, naturally,
Working on that
Waterproof socks
For the silly prat
Who, with fashion
Well and truly to the fore,
Doesn’t bother to buy
Waterproof shoes anymore.
They’re not in fashion
They’re not in style
And wet feet warm up
After just a little while.
You are the Designer
Trained to mix it
Doesn’t really matter if
In doing so you unfix it.
A frock is just a tube
With holes in correct locations
But billions has been earned by
Making the slightest variations.
A little bit of cheek
Is all it takes
And a catwalk of models
As thin as garden rakes
You will find it easier
With every further attempt
To treat the gullible public
With disdain and contempt.
Just remember dear designer
That age old rhyme
About fooling most people
For most of the time.
If you still don’t believe that
Take heart from the story
Of poverty stricken people
Going out and voting Tory.
This is a true story- no names have been changed to protect the idiot........
Nb- * - a car bonnet is a hood in the United states.
** - censored.
On my way back from the pub
(since real ale is my passion)
slowly wending my way home
in a wibbly-wobbly fashion
in the road sat something small-
I almost passed it by,
camouflaged in darkness
by a cloudy moonless sky.
I could tell it was a Hedgehog
simply by it's silhouette,
and if it didn't move real soon
would get squashed flat, I'll bet.
Just then a hundred yards away
a pair of lights appeared
heading our way at a pace
exactly as I'd feared.
Instinct kicked in, and out I leapt
to the middle of the road
waving my arms frantically as
I switched to 'Hero' mode.
He hit the brakes just feet away
and wound his window down
"get out the way, you Prat!" he yelled
but I just pointed down, and said
"Hedgehog!!" (which he couldn't see,
his bonnet* was in the way),
"Just hang on while I shift it, mate"
was all that I could say.
So, bending down to rescue it
still sat between my feet
my heart sank as I focussed in
then finally missed a beat.
The Hedgehog I had risked my life
to save it by removing
was, in fact, from off a washing machine
a piece of rubber tubing.
Not wishing too look foolish
I just hid it with my sleeves
and slowly walked off to the kerb,
the car began to leave.
Angrily into the air I kicked the pipe before me,
a big mistake- in his rear view mirror
the car driver he saw me,
and hit the brakes, then jumped out yelling
( I remember, although quite plastered)
"That's cruelty to an animal! Come here, you heartless person** !
In hot pursuit back up the road
he came- the chase was on,
I wasn't going to hang about, in seconds I was gone,
vaulting over garden walls and dodging through the gates
then out of breath I hid myself, till he had gone, I'd wait.
Mud splattered with my trousers torn I reached home, panic over,
the ordeal I'd just been through was a great way to get sober.
So next time wildlife is in peril, maybe I won't hurry,
I'll carry on and stagger home-
let Mother Nature worry.
Don't want to be a bother,
Don't want to come between
Don't want to cause distraction
Don't want to make a scene.
Though stating really clearly-
I fear there's something wrong and
If i can't state it here
Where else do I belong?
There's problems in society and
I ask with much respect
To voice your words with wisdom and
also help correct.
One world that we all live in and
Hallejuah just for that!
Cannot be frivolous
Don't want to be a prat.
There are many social issues and
It's time that we address
The filthy greedy rich and
people are suppressed.
People are not happy and
It affects the universe
To get to what is forward
Sometimes we must reverse.
So let's back it up and
highlight what is real
I empathise with others and
Can understand what others feel.
There are some things I won't tolerate
For my world is your world too and
Your world is my world
So let all of us pursue...
Peace and happiness
Here all are resuming?
Just don't ever forget
We are all human.
Indeed people are special and
all so unique
Strong in a way
Another so meek.
We can do our bit
Let's get back to grass roots
To change what is wrong and
Societies Attributes....
Don't want to be a fool
Don't want to be a propriety
Don't want to be a number
No faith in this society....
But I believe in you!
I write with the left and fight with the right
cross dominance thinking prone to insight
the right hand said that the left hand’s cack
the left hand said that the right’s a prat
but I’m never sure which hand I’ll draw
I can write with the right but the right gets sore
so I switch to the left and the left writes pure,
but my brain won’t let one hemisphere rule
so I think out of sync with the other people
staying rationalised while their passion lets fly
they see what suits while I see both sides
and I can’t decide so I seem less wise
I think they think cack through selecting facts
and I’m outnumbered by the stupid prats
The House That Jack Built 3
Frequently we youngest four gathered bottles that were strewn in ditches,
And along the railroad track,
Then glide our feet over well-worn steel rails on the journey back.
We'd exchange empties for jaw-breakers and bubble-gum at Rose’s General Store,
And whenever I agreed to sing them a song,
We’d be given ice-cream cones for the deed that was far from a chore.
On the way home we’d pluck dandelions, buttercups, and daisies,
To present Ma with a colorful bouquet,
I’d add to it a rose or two if a certain neighbor was away.
If walls of home had open eyes and listening ears of course they’d witness and hear,
The muttered complaints and landing though faint of many a fallen tear.
Still, there was no television to carry us to places no child should go,
No boob-tube attempting to make us believe in all that just wasn't so.
We’d no telephone enslaving us in idle prattle-prat,
There was no couch-potatoing, no pigging out and getting fat.
We weren’t saints and some of our shenanigans surely caused the structure to tilt,
Yet we somehow felt all safe and secure in The House They Say Jack Built.
Then one day city slickers arrived at our door,
Said soon we would be living in Farran's Point no more,
The house where Ma had birthed nine,
Our Haven of Liberty that rested amid Willow, Maple and Pine,
Was part of some Seaway Power Project and Jack's House would be torn down,
And we were forced to relocate , to leave our delightful riverside town.
Gone would be the tall, proud trees, wild berries , rolling hills, winding creek and close friend,
Gone the canal that ships sailed through never would I cheerfully view again.
Gone the long tall grass we'd run through barefoot ,
After a swim in the River we cherished dear,
Gone the smiles from the faces of the Lost Villagers as eyes tried to hold back each tear.
by Joan Donnelly Ellis
Note: Farran's Point Ontario, Canada was a small riverside village. It was one of nine villages relocated before USA & Canada flooded the area in 1958 (St. Lawrence Seaway Power Project)
Winter's icy streams funnel low
Frosty beams on pine needles
glow
A menacing wind seeps
through thatched window
Below, fibrous carpet cloaked
with satin plateau
Snowy wood with furry dander
doth flow
Mule deer nestle with fatty
reserves in tow
Wild boars root 'neath the
milky tallow
Red foxes scavenge for prey
along the hedgerow
Pensive hares prat through the
silken meadow
Black bears take shelter in
sleepy hollow
Sparring woodchucks bristle in
the frothy undertow
Spotted owls reconnoiter each
frozen crevice, sealed burrow
Orange-breasted sparrows
their winter anthem bellow
Jittery squirrels scurry about
searching for nutty escrow
Humpty Dumpty was in fact a selfish king. A narcissist with a harem of women, many who were under the age of sixteen. He was quite large and disfigured, due to his royal ancestors marrying siblings to preserve their blood. His mum was also his aunt and his dad was also his uncle in relation. He was a hunchback and could hardly walk. He was bold and had a pale complexion with a very small neck and drooping cheeks. He spoke with a lisp and stuttered, always dribbling. He was very cruel and treated his servants very bad. One small mistake like too much sugar in his tea would result in having their heads chopped off. Despite having many wives, he was unable to have children, so he executed six of his sisters, but one remained. Was she the one who pushed him?
King Humpty Dumpty
was a bit of a prat.
A narcissist numpty,
really ugly and fat.
An evil psychopath,
who loved a good bloodbath.
Those afraid of his wrath,
would stay clear from his path.
He was such a rotten egg -
put a foot wrong and you're dead.
Loved to see his servants beg,
all he gave them was some bread.
Unable to have a kid.
He was empty down below.
All fun he would forbid,
or a tantrum we would throw.
His mum felt so much shame,
his behaviour was insane.
In dishonouring their name,
she wanted to end his reign.
Murdered six of his siblings,
but failed to kill the last one.
She was sick of his quibblings,
so she went on the run.
Humpty was a bit small,
servants had to move him around.
Loved to sit on that wall,
to watch kids in the playground,
but no witness would tell,
about that fateful day,
when he stumbled and fell,
nothing - no one would say.
Now Humpty did not die,
but the damage was severe.
He couldn't speak nor cry,
braindead he would appear.
His sister now returned,
to rule the land as queen.
With all the lessons learned,
she promised to never be obscene.
You’ve got roids
I wouldn’t use that
make you annoyed
why choose that
You think you’re better
as you get bigger
bulging with water
oh what a blinger
You’re as strong as before
and clearly less clever
now a coward been hypnotised
lack power when hit the guys
Appearing bigger and thick
as you square up all slick
yet fail to figure quick
as you carry on long lip
Go on then give him a lick
he's scared he's quiet
with muscles real no trick
powerful to scar in a riot
punch after punch felt
lose the tussle fluid muscle
block out you're disillusional
definitely a deluded fool
those steroids look a weasel
no pause the paws pummel
lack strength and crumble
now you're done for
Using roids like a puss cat
stop and you deflate flat
a pathetic boy and just that
the beaten fighter looks a prat
Pick on real men you get beat
boys on steroids are mentally weak