Long Satire Poems
Long Satire Poems. Below are the most popular long Satire by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Satire poems by poem length and keyword.
Where Lost Souls Meet
Pose for the scene,
A star shines bright,
Living the dream.
Glistening skin,
Heart full of fire,
Chasing the spotlight,
Rising higher and higher
Stiletto heels on a Friday night,
Prowling the city, bathed in bright light.
The world at her feet,
The LA streets
Where lost souls meet,
Filtered skies frame her glamorous life,
But down on the streets, there’s a different strife.
Chasing dragons
Flying higher and higher
Hope escapes with each fading sun,
A homeless heart, no place to run.
Reluctant dreams in oversized clothes,
A weary soul where no warmth ever flows.
Stars rising high, yet some never soar,
Falling apart, feeling less than before.
What the Butler Heard
Extract from a memoir
Lord Illustrious Penge of Lampwicker Hall,
Welcomed local Toffs, to his Name-Dropper ball.
Noses upturned with a touch of conceit,
Hob-Knobbing with gentry and gentleman elite.
Colonel recalled, his luncheon with Churchill,
Discussing backbenchers and a new Commons bill.
Shooting down Stukas, Captains claim to fame
“We had no choice Sir, Hitler started the game”
Lady Bell and I, champion ballroom dance,
After meeting Fred Astaire, purely by chance.
I worked with Crosby, taught him to Croon,
Just as well really, he couldn’t sing in tune.
Rupert went to school with Dame Vera Lynn,
and starred in a war film with Anthony Quinn.
Mortenson served, in old Atlee’s Cabinet,
Roberta was a Barrister when they first met.
Bradman hit this Six, into the members stand,
Luckily, I caught it, stretching out one hand.
I got a hole in one, on the sixth at Upper Plumb,
Sir Monty looked aghast, utterly struck dumb.
Sent my son to Eton, toughen him up a tad,
Hopefully play at Flanker, just like my old Dad.
Got myself a Cadi’, drives like a dream,
Shiny sleek and black, trim of vintage cream.
Gielgud and Guinness, met me at the Royal,
A script for their new play, Rich Man & Toil.
Later with QE2, after receiving my MBE,
She asked my opinion, of the shows on BBC.
I stayed at base camp, nursing a busted leg,
Hilary splinted it up, with rope and spare tent peg.
Spent some time in Burma, till the Japs came in,
Came home to Blighty, temper wearing thin.
I was at the Oval when Hutton hit 364,
England posted 903, a record breaking score.
In service with his lordship, so many stories,
Serving champagne to upper class Tories.
Tales might be true, just a little overstated,
Like the one that got away, typically inflated.
They were rather pompous, but often kind,
Especially the ones, left with half a mind.
Get me a stiff one Walters, Champers is gassy,
Just Lords way, sounding snob and brassy.
Then I won the football pools,
Bought my wife a gem,
So now I am a gentleman,
Just like the rest of them.
Three Sure Signs of Christmas
There are twelve days of Christmas, everybody knows that
But there are only three signs to know it’s time to start getting fat.
The first sign that Christmas is getting really quite near
Is all the new toy adverts on the telly that suddenly appear
They are on the telly before kids return to school after summer break
There are lots of toys to buy, they tell us and even some Christmas cake
Never mind the partridge that’s sitting in the pear tree
Or the French Hens and the five golden rings
The second sign is Cliff Richard back, selling his songs and things.
Calendars and tickets, to concerts around and about
I’m here come buy my wears is Cliff Richards only Christmas shout.
The third sign of Christmas is also the television screen
The Coco Cola train runs daily, set in a pretty Christmas scene
Christmas isn’t Christmas without Coco Cola, they would have us believe
We can’t have Christmas without it, because everyone would grieve.
Without TV and Cliff Richard, Christmas would not happen at all
No Christmas dinner or gifts and no works Christmas ball
There would be no Turtle doves, or Maids to go a milking.
No cheap deals and cons, for people to go a bilking.
No money spent at this time of year would be a catastrophe
We would just have to carry on with our same routine daily.
Christmas is not what is was, even the dates are a bit of a misleader
It was mixed with Roman Saturnalia, to appease the then church leaders.
So for all those that celebrate remember you have Cliff to thank for it
Enjoy your time this year, and all those presents that do not fit
Don’t think of me as humbug or even a Christmas killjoy
I wish everyone what they wish for themselves and others
And I hope that your Santa comes, to help all the mothers
Have a good time one and all, at this special time of year
And remember to thank the telly and Cliff, for all this Christmas cheer.
The Glass Ceiling
“Woe there sister, where do you think you're going?
Turn around, go back, stop, cease, desist!
Nothing for you above my see-through barrier.
Yes, yes, I know you can see them up there.
They are welcome up above.
Why?
Well, because they have an outie and not an innie.
They have their ice cream with nuts and you don't.
They are the plug, not the outlet.
Only snakes and snails and puppydog tails.
Keep out all of the sugar and spice and everything nice.
Blue is better than pink,
Mars vs. Venus…. Bla,bla,bla.
Oh-ho! That's rich!
Don't make me laugh, YOU BONE THIEF! YOU RIB STEALER!
We ALL know you can do the exact same work, as good or better than them.
What's your point?
And don't make it too sharp, huh?…we wouldn't want to crack the glass.
What you need is a good dose of Saint Paul, girlie.
Saul or Paul, sure had some gaul!
Ha! Oh man, I crack myself up!
We'll, not literally because…well.
Now, Sing it with me!
…”anything you can do, I can do better! I can do anything better than you!”
No. wait! nevermind! Forget I said that…
Hey, hey!? what are you doing?!
No! Girls aren't allowed here!
…Stop that singing!
Soprano is my Kryptonite!”
…Walking on, walking on, broken glass…
”
**Just a piece of "innocuous" satire with underlying political undertones,
aimed at our lying and unrepentant politicians and political hacks, with a
little bit of humor and a "voodoo spell" placed under their seats. **
The Devil's Tongue
Stop gaslighting me you cannot succeed
Lying through your teeth like toxic weed
You will decompose then swiftly deposed
Just a matter how you turn into compost
Exit debate stand an ugly face ain't glam
Arrow coming at you, you filthy old scum
Tongue of yours split, spits perverted lies
Run for your life before that vile ego fries!
Penned: 1/17/2022
3:45 a.m.
Lake Worth
Florida USA
Executive orders signing spree
Quite a start for old JB
Killed off the jobs of myriad employees
Put a chokehold on the oil industry
But in the name of his pitch for unity
Lets look at JB's orders with impunity
Rejoining the 2015 Paris 'dialogue-ees'
He's eased up on our good friends, the Chinese
Plus he's helped so many radicals smile with glee
Like Ms. Omer, Ms. Tlieb, Bernie and AOC
Not to mention old pros like Schumer and Pelosi
Now on to re-engage Iran, Obama's lose-lose strategy
Canceling rents and student loans in late February
Open the borders ~ Here comes amnesty
Cast thy stones, cast thy stones,
Come ye one and all.
For ne’er were truer words than these:
“Pride cometh before the fall.”
Come ye saints, come ye church,
Let this be our creed:
“Despite the beams within our eyes,
This worn world was born to bleed.”
Come ye thieves, come ye whores,
Cast them if you may.
A martyr was I called to be,
So do so both brisk and gay.
What is sloth? What is greed?
All is vanity.
Have mercy priest and holy bride,
For sanity is my plea.
Take great heed, fellow saints!
For this is my creed:
“Forsake all pride and vanity,
Lest my cast stones make you bleed.”
They said they would do it
And done it they did,
But little they know
They’ve lifted the lid.
The kettle is boiling,
The heat never more,
I’m ready and waiting
To even the score.
Revenge is my hammer,
My words knives to throw,
Those dithering fools
They’ll reap what they sow.
Pelosi’s a patsy,
So devious and mean,
But Schiff’s the real loser,
I’ll make that toad scream.
Impeach me for what,
Merely a ploy,
A political stunt
To maim and destroy.
Little they realize
Those bumbling schemers,
The country’s aware
They’re delusional dreamers.
The Senate’s my tool
To dismantle this thing
And then mark my words,
I’ll make their ears ring.
They meddle with me
At their peril and grief,
Their victory dance
Pathetic and brief.
This 45th President,
So great and so strong,
Will rule yet a while,
For sure four years long.
Automotive experts clearly agree
Driverless cars are the thing for you and me
How did they arrive at this brilliant conclusion?
Perhaps by illusion or via delusion
Perhaps by a bit of Malthusian confusion
--All I know is it leaves me in deep disillusion
Yo, Honda Corp, Mr. Yamada, did you ask me about it?
Yo, Nissan Corp, Mr. Saikawa, do you think that I tout it?
Yo, Toyota Corp, Mr. Toyoda, can't we live without it?
Yo, Subaru Corp, Mr. Nakamura, why don't you doubt it?
The 'cool corporations' want driverless tech
Not one of them is willing to stick out his neck
Yelling like heck:
"I want my independence
I want my freedom
Whatever sights can be seen
I want to see'm!"--
Not sit in the backseat fiddling with a device
While the bot in the driver's seat ignores his advice
America's highways and byways, her mountains and valleys
Lo, her fields and her meadows, her side streets and alleys
Were meant to be driven, meant to be seen
--Not merely imaged on a tiny phone screen
"See the USA in your Chevrolet
America's the greatest land of all" (Dinah Shore, TV ad, 1950's-60's)
Keep humans in the driver's seat
Spring, Summer and Fall
--Don't slow this country's love affair with the auto to a crawl.
So, all you pundits of prescience, prediction, precision
You fearless-faced forecasters of science-less fiction
Before you commit me and my friends
To a future none of us desires
~ Think twice: Cars may just lose all their buyers
Come, my son, my daughter, let’s get killed,
Fighting for our beloved nation…!
They, under bribes, get applications filled,
Do not mind! They get better salary-transaction!
My officers do not get killed:
I am their negotiation...!
Come, My son, my daughter, let’s get killed,
Fighting for our beloved nation…!
=====
===
Who is the mother?
Who is the father of this nation?
What option have been left with one another,
Than just a negotiation…!
Come, yet, let us get killed,
Fighting for our beloved nation;
Come, my son, my daughter, let’s get killed,
Fighting for our beloved nation…!
09 October 2022