Long Throw a fit Poems
Long Throw a fit Poems. Below are the most popular long Throw a fit by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Throw a fit poems by poem length and keyword.
To the concession stands at the ballpark in Washington.
Doing business with you is certainly no fun.
First, how much can you charge for a drink?
A high price of five-fifty for a Coke does stink.
The lousy service you gave had me fed up.
How can you dispense without lids for the cup?
Your nasty attitudes can make a person throw a fit.
If you do not like your jobs, then you should quit.
Fans want to enjoy themselves at a ball game.
Your service should bring your employers big shame.
The attitudes you display require an about face.
Is this why your baseball team is playing in last place?
You cannot make me he said
Forehead tight, his face all red
He was quite bright
And was so right
I will not do it
He would not sit.
You can’t make me!
He kicked and bit
His parents came to school one day
They were having trouble too
They came to see if we had a way
They did not know what to do
He runs from us, the daddy said
He respects us not a whit.
A team of teachers gave them many suggestions.
We cannot. They replied. He would throw a fit.
So they kept rewarding his behaviors, bad.
And now ten years later I am truly sad
To report that you-cannot-make-me is in jail.
Some of us teachers send him regular mail.
Beware those who are not,
A little bit bias.
Or a little bit pious.
A little bit selfish,
Or a little bit standoffish.
A little bit sexist,
Or a little bit racist.
A Little bit forlorn,
Or little bit stubborn.
A little bit lazy,
Or a little bit crazy.
Beware those who are not,
A bit of a risk taker,
Or a Muck-raker.
A bit of a snob,
Or a hard case when on the job.
A bit of a joker,
Or a gambler.
A bit of a blower of trumpets,
Or a layer of red carpets.
A bit of a liar,
Or a Town Cryer.
Beware those who are not a little bit,
They will be hard to please,
Whenever there is even a little breeze.
Which makes it hard for them to care a jot,
Every time they lose the plot.
They will never cause just a little harm,
If they decide to leave the farm
And shoulder arms,
Without any qualms.
The next time you meet anyone who admits to being a little bit,
Don't throw a fit,
Just help them be a little less,
And give them a god bless.
You won't have to worry about them even throwing a little fit,
As you take a little nip
In honour of your new friendship,
When you too admit to being a little bit,
Of a misfit.
I make a list of A words; thinking an alliterative poem would do today.
A cobra falls from the sky and lands in my hair with a big “hooray!”
A talking snake; just my unique daily kind of luck, I think.
The cobra says “Hi, my name is Lady Godiva Pink!”
Well that is all well and good, but what can I do with it?
I am making a list of A words; so I throw a fit.
I want to get on with alliteration, and I have my poem in mind.
I am tired of getting side tracked by cobras and rattlers of every kind.
Why my hair? I ask the cobra. “Why choose me?”
I got thrown by a giant in the cloud. He just tossed me away.
I am madder than hops now; as mad as a young mother can be.
I guess I will have to write the poem I had in mind on another day.
Grand Central should be welcoming,
For travelers do flock,
To come and go, from near and far
And all around the clock.
A hub of transportation,
Both for subway and for rail,
It’s a place where first impressions
Of the city should prevail.
Yet the food court is dispiriting.
The choices are okay,
But there’s a problem if you want
To take some time and stay.
Ther’s very little seating, so
When purchasing some food –
A meal or snack or drink, unless
You might be in the mood
To stand around and eat it,
You are simply out of luck.
There are some scattered tables
For those early birds with pluck.
Perhaps it’s to discourage
Homeless people who might sit
Without spending any money
And, when challenged, throw a fit.
Still, it isn’t very pleasant
For those visitors who might
Like to stop and get their bearings
And to grab a little bite.
As a local, I’m embarrassed
That this very poor excuse
For a food court in Grand Central
Is the best we can produce.
Voices voices telling me
Where to go
Who to see
What to say
And who to be
How to think
What to believe
What to buy
And what to spend
Where to start
And where to end
Who to hate
And to friend
When exactly to be straight
And when exactly, they say I should bend
.
Rules to live my life by
And how much I should get
When to let it go
Or when to throw a fit
Voices voices I declare
On the page
And on the air
Every how
And every where
.
Every say
And every said
Constant voices
In my head
Voices voices telling me
What to hope for
What to dream
Where to find
Blue Bell ice cream
When to whisper
When to scream
.
Voices voices telling you
Vote the red
Vote the blue
But don't think for yourself
No matter what you do
Voices to manipulate
Paint good men fools
Paint evil great
.
Those other voices whispering
Prodding me to do their thing
If I'm crazy let me be
But you be you
And I'll be me
And choose for myself
What I call free
.
Five hundred twenty-eight megahertz
Called us up out of the dirt
It's said I'll know the Shepherd's voice
And when He calls I'll have a choice
It's hard to hear Him thru the noise
Or cipher through religious ploys
But I choose to hear Him nonetheless
Tune out the chaos of all the rest
That one true Voice it brings me peace
And floods my soul with sweet relief
.
One last time I must tell
Keep your voices to yourself
Schizophrenic I may well be
But you just be you
And let me be me
I know, “Let’s go trick-or-treating!” the schnauzer said.
Said the cat, “You must be completely dead in the head!”
Pink bunny was jumping around in circle with glee.
Ebony bat said, “If you do it, you have to take me!”
They decided to do it on this October Halloween night.
They dressed in costumes meant to humor not fright.
Went house to house and got no carrots, but candy.
“I love this!” said the candy-eater, schnauzer named Randy.
“I wanted lettuce or carrots,” the rabbit lamented a bit.
said the bat “You get what you get, and you don’t throw a fit.”
Pink bunny got eaten by big bad wolf along the route.
Cat ran off with a well pawed Tom, rabbit continued to pout.
In the marrow of our bones,
politics is inscribed,
an ancient script of dominance and submission,
etched deep in the bedrock of our being.
We are actors on a stage,
where every gesture, every word,
is charged with meaning,
where power is the current that flows,
unseen but felt, undeniable.
We cannot escape it—
like a bull in a China shop,
our clumsy attempts at neutrality
shatter the fragile artifacts of civility.
Like a teddy bear in the arms of a kick boxer,
we are paradoxes,
soft and fierce,
vulnerable and strong,
unwilling participants in a game
that never ceases.
We despise politicians,
those mirrors of our souls,
reflecting the jagged edges
of our own conflicted natures,
the windows through which we see
our fragmented selves.
Human experience is political,
a dance of power and persuasion,
the assertion of our truths,
our stories, our lives,
above others.
We take liberties with leopards,
unchanged, unchanging,
their spots a testament
to the constancy of our struggles,
our relentless pursuit of dominance,
our eternal quest for control.
Tired of politics?
Throw a fit, a tirade,
laugh at the absurdity of your reflection,
but know this:
you are political,
we are political,
whether we want to be or not.
In the theater of life,
we play our parts,
each moment a line in the script,
each action a move in the game,
bound by the threads of politics
woven deeply into our souls.
She was smart, beautiful and a perfect host
Yet these god given attributes don't explain how she became adored
By most,
With no hate mail in the post.
No, we have to look elsewhere for the reason,
That no matter what the season,
She could appeal to our reason.
Was it the way she talked,
Maybe it was the way she walked,
Or the way she looked at you when she smiled.
No, that was not the reason she was such a hit,
Because like us all she could still throw a fit
And upset a little bit
Could it have been how she treated everyone the same,
Or that she did not use voice or words to shame,
No, these are not reason enough to explain her fame.
To be fair, the reason only becomes clear,
When you have had a hug from her
One that sets your emotions astir
And gives your heart cause to stutter.
Even while knowing anything more is reserved for another.
Many is the time I have seen a hug go to the undeserving,
With genuine feeling,
When the rest of us would have resorted to behaviour less
Appealing.
To think that most of us have yet to grasp the fact,
That a simple hug freely given can change the way others act
And give us all a reason,
To look forward to another season.
You were mean to me in public,
And you thought you had gotten by with it.
Because I did not scream or rant.
On social media I did not throw a fit.
In other ways, I got you back
For calling me mean words, for insinuating I’m a hack.
But you have not figured it out yet.
I gloat in secret, running to my safety net.
You may figure it out today, or maybe not at all
But I have the satisfaction of standing right and tall
Because you were the meanie who made the bad moves
And I am the hippie child with the cool vibe grooves.
I have my admirers, my followers and such
How much time do I waste on you? Not very much.