Pouting Poems

Meaningful

The world is changing for the better
Waiting for a great time to strike rich
We don't wait for the hostile to crashed
We get out before then
A hostile environment is pity harsh
The transistion of human life is vanishing
Our world became hostile
People don't act the same
What was the changes?
A poor life style
People are struggling
Do not think the same
Less smile more pouting
Not appropriate for this life or another
We reach out but no one hears
Everyone deaf and blind
Amen

living with an abuser

the pouting begins
abusers manipulate
first apology

within a few weeks
a blatant power struggle
narcissists rule

welcome to hell house
you can never fully please
seriously run

he will seclude you
she will leave permanent scars
they are abusers

Contrast This And That

Pause, consider, and think about this.
Some rich people invest and spend.
Some poor people wish and spend.
Short people reach up.
Tall people bend down.

Good habits beget good results.
Bad habits render bad results.
Bad beginnings often end well.
Bad endings force 'look-backs'.

You cannot withdraw something
that has not been deposited.
We usually reap what we have sown.
Sometimes, favor suspends the norm.

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When adding it all up,
At the end of the day,
I'd rather be home with
A happy wife and 500 miles

Removed from disappointed
Siblings, rather than being alienated
From a pouting, unhappy wife, while
Enjoying happy, celebrating siblings.
Stop, meditate, and muse about that.

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It's Spring! Be Happy!

It’s Spring! Be Happy!

Come on stringbean ~
get up, let’s get silly…
and have some fun !

So it’s grey and drizzling
we’re not made out of sugar
Let’s put on hats and our galoshes
i’ll race you out to find some puddles

We simply cannot just sit here
pouting with our long faces
while we wait for the sunshine to return !



AP: Honorable Mention 2025

Submitted on May 18, 2025 for contest LET'S DO THE CHICKEN SPLASH  sponsored by MYSTIC ROSE ROSE

The Candle Had No idea of her Allure

Dear Future Generations,

The candle did not know whether to snuff herself out
Or begin dancing around the cemetery and give a shout
She knew she was not going to join her cousin, on walk-about
But other than that, she had a vague sense of doubt

Who do you think you are? Asked the snippy porcupine.
He was still pouting when she said he could not make her “mine”.
Candle walked off, did not give him a backward glance or time.
She was late for a date with a count who fed her lime.

The paintbrush in the corner who was conjuring graffiti
Rolled his eyes at these two, their conversations were needy
He pretended he did not care, but he had his eye on little candle too
She walked off swinging her fancy ways in the fog of the blue.

The candle had no idea how attractive she was; that is for sure.
Or how innocent, for she was white, young, kind and bridal pure.
If she had known how the handsome young paintbrush felt about her
She might have given him attention, for he was a gentleman for sure.

Southern Rata Splendour

Southern Rata (is a stunning Kiwi Tree)



Red or scarlet harlots instead...a bucolic frolic..

Tranches spread as if bulbous branches have gorgeously bled..

Overpowering flowering towers glimmer…fanciful fairytale shimmers showering...

Such vim...swim on a whim..sprouting on an outing from their pouting wooden limb....

A delight..refining..shining bright.. defining.. these bizarrely beautifully gnarly trees...

Crimson collage..insisting snarling tendril darlings..timber tentacles twisting…a magical mirage....

Marooned yet cocooned in a festooned lagoon...wouldn't barter anything…

To swoon at the miracle..spectacular boon of Southern Rata ...

Neon God

I do not want a neon God
Orange bright
Flourescent pink, glowing light
For all to see
In darkest night

I'd rather have
The subtle charm
With strength to hold in every arm 
Or patient hope
And solid calm 

I do not need
The flashy stuff on garish stage 
With visuals on every page
As life rotates
Through human age 

The wisdom now
To soulful dreams
Is silence it seems 
That reveals
God's delicate schemes

The inner room
The heart space, clear
Where gratitude for every tear
Is soaked by love
Replacing fear

The worldly clamour
For my mind
The buzzing lights so unrefined
Revealed deception
Cruel, unkind

I neutralise
With heavenly truth
A mystery disguised to youth
Of settled soul. Of peaceful rhythm 
Released control

A rhyme untainted 
The ancient rule 
Of beauty unpainted so old it's cool
The teacher's in...
Not classroom school

That neon fad
That tragic shouting
From soapbox square, no crumbs for birds
Meaningless pouting
Just empty words

So I resolve to dim the bright
Pull down the shade
So that there might
Be revelation by
Internal light

I am too this I am too Fat

I’m too this, I’m too me, I'm too that,
Too happy, too sad, too thin, too fat
Why do you want to be with me, you louse?
I am as irrational and deranged as the Winchester House.

Your criticisms have been a long time coming.
I can sing them in my sleep, they are always humming
I am too weird, I am too mild.
You think you are the adult and I’m your child?

I have a word or two for you.
But pouting is awful to watch, so I’ll be blue.
Keeping my thoughts to myself, to keep safe.
You are no prize or prince, old Rafe.

You will be lucky yourself to find a normal gal.
You are not a friend, a good lover, a confidant or a pal.
I will keep these thoughts to myself, of course.
But your brain is mean, and your skin is coarse.

You have a smell I cannot put my mind upon.
I think I’ll go off with your friend Big John.
We will not think of you at all, old Rafe.
Being with you has been a big disgrace.

Heart's Plea

Mind breaks out of fright
seeking peace with plight
needing freedom flight
escaping from gloom’s blight
to love's glowing delight...

Soul in despair, day and night
cries for blest caring sprite
against cursed weakening might
midst what’s unfair, not right...

Faith smites doubt's fight
sans heavenly insight
conquers pouting bite
from guilt’s route and cite…

Pride falls from towering height
heart yearns for God, source of light.

What's This Picture Worth

It has been said pictures are worth a lot
A photo of this wanna be big shot
Leaves no room for doubting
Like a child he's pouting
With want to rule the whole world, he's besot

**** for Tat

What woman, upon meeting, mentions a woman’s “****.”
**** for tat and all that.
Were we having a conversation?
It took a severe turn; laughed it off.
Did I mention, her’s were laughable.
She was affable but strange.
The conversation was not uplifting.
She was a caretaker, parked in the park.
Benched
‘cause of her “arthritis.”

Strangers, strangely, let you know
what they’re about.
Pouting ‘cause her ****
were smaller bits.

O-Kay…

So I quickly made for my car,
leaving her business card
in her pocket, not mine.

Minding my own business
next time.

Don't wanna listen

Don't wanna Listen, 
  

                    So you'll rather lie,
                 Don't wanna listen.
         The pouting of the lips and the rolling of the eyes.
                  Don't wanna listen,
            "Now this !  is why you have to cry."

LISTEN n SHOUT N--- DEDICATED VERSE FOR SHASTA SIMMS ANTHOLOGY 2

Shoutin shouting, shouting shouting
Emotional confusing
I left my heart eyes blinded
I felt the breath of my words enervating
I just can’t drink a cup of water
While my heart is starving
So much am I craving the lust of myself?
Listen, listen, listen
Listen, listen to my heart sadden
Shoutin, shouting, pouting
Shouting, shouting, shouting




9/8/24
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr. 2024

Pouting Downer Frowner

We all know at least one from down by the bay
A downer-frowner who likes to pout all day
We call ours Eeyore, after the depressed donkey
Winnie Pooh, Christopher Robin and Tigger’s friend, is he.

He pouts because it is rainy weather
He is annoyed by the brilliance of the sun
He is holding a grudge forever
Against more than twenty-one

In 1969 she borrowed my pencil and never gave it back.
The annoying banter of this guy has my neck hairs off the track.
I want to say “Do not pout about stuff that happened in ’84.”
That is the day his wife and her lover sneaked out his grouchy door.

Bloom

My imagined life is saturated in color
Thoughts drip decadent gemstone hues against a backdrop
 pouting purple wrapped in shades of electric blue
Life around us blooms
skin drenched in marigold
My heart is fuschia
Wild and overgrown
Love me like the ivy climbs and claims everything as it's own
Consume me
Scream my name out into your sapphire sky

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