"bumptious" poems - Hello Poetry

* *Once in thoughting so profound, exhilarated with a bottle found. . . . . .slake'd it up yet still I got it, passed-out drunk, woke up, forgot it?* *

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Feb 4, 2017

Feb 4, 2017 at 8:03 PM UTC

david-john-mowers

Bumptious

* *Once in thoughting so profound, exhilarated with a bottle found. . . . . .slake'd it up yet still I got it, passed-out drunk, woke up, forgot it?* *

4

Mrs Merkel, fair and sturdy Dour and doughty High and mighty Saviour of the sinking Euro Female icon, Teuton hero Stand up for our rights!. Daughter of the old Republic Proud and plumptious Rarely bumptious Quantum spousal and mechanics Scourge of Grecian's and Hispanics Onward from Berlin! Lean upon the sturdy lectern Softly spoken Never broken Deliver to the gathered masses Words of warning and molasses Deliver us from evil! Target of the shocking Silvio Chauvinistic Almost mystic While all things must come to pass She's most certainly not a ******* Gott mit Uns!

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Nov 4, 2012

Nov 4, 2012 at 1:16 AM UTC

titus-aduxus

The Leaderene

Mrs Merkel, fair and sturdy Dour and doughty High and mighty Saviour of the sinking Euro Female icon, Teuton hero Stand up for our rights!. Daughter of the old Republic Proud and plumptious Rarely bumptious Quantum spousal and mechanics Scourge of Grecian's and Hispanics Onward from Berlin! Lean upon the sturdy lectern Softly spoken Never broken Deliver to the gathered masses Words of warning and molasses Deliver us from evil! Target of the shocking Silvio Chauvinistic Almost mystic While all things must come to pass She's most certainly not a ******* Gott mit Uns!

24

I've a sui-generis tendency to ape that sainted cat from Assisi who lends me this moniker with mouth-confounding interests. I cop ascetically tasteless means for living and an auto-inflicting knack, but we part weepy ways at the nobler wherefore of his arts. He self-stigmatized for Faith, I stab at lesser Love's tortured metaphors, and my plump palms bare only the throb of a heart foolish for one once gripped. Move on I must, wholly hand-in-hand with hag Hope to cajole a jab by bumptious Charity, touch of her tip flushing blues from my fleshy side.

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Apr 8, 2010

Apr 8, 2010 at 8:47 AM UTC

francis-scudellari

Stigmatic

I've a sui-generis tendency to ape that sainted cat from Assisi who lends me this moniker with mouth-confounding interests. I cop ascetically tasteless means for living and an auto-inflicting knack, but we part weepy ways at the nobler wherefore of his arts. He self-stigmatized for Faith, I stab at lesser Love's tortured metaphors, and my plump palms bare only the throb of a heart foolish for one once gripped. Move on I must, wholly hand-in-hand with hag Hope to cajole a jab by bumptious Charity, touch of her tip flushing blues from my fleshy side.

12

Found one another in clean white cotton fluff Immediate halt, Greek Theos, thematic vowel Rock star curls, twists fell your neck, shoulders Exquisite softness, loops eros and cotton towel Deluxe strength, and rest of you tanned Almost bumptious, except eyes, grin too cool Brought into your ellipses, tremulous flutters No names exchanged before mouths grew drool Kiss that could have lasted conquering of Rome What had happened to us in diaphoresis baths? Battle of endurance ensued, gripping challenge Whence young men in small towels cross paths

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Apr 14, 2016

Apr 14, 2016 at 9:32 AM UTC

pj-poesy

Towel Boys

Found one another in clean white cotton fluff Immediate halt, Greek Theos, thematic vowel Rock star curls, twists fell your neck, shoulders Exquisite softness, loops eros and cotton towel Deluxe strength, and rest of you tanned Almost bumptious, except eyes, grin too cool Brought into your ellipses, tremulous flutters No names exchanged before mouths grew drool Kiss that could have lasted conquering of Rome What had happened to us in diaphoresis baths? Battle of endurance ensued, gripping challenge Whence young men in small towels cross paths

12

I want to know I'm loved with unwavering certainty. Crisp clarity. As if love was a bubbly boil pasted right in mid of my forehead. Constantly reminding me of its existence, bumptious and irritating, but ever present and glorious. I want a love I fear is nullified buried in the graveyard of childhood fantasies. For in all reality No man will love you for you in unadulterated vivacity. The real world is tainted by the mind of biology, terminating the dream of true love and all of the accompanying fluffy stuff. There's no sense spending our days mourning the falsified dreams of our youth. There's only one person on this earth that can make you happy and that'd be YOU

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Apr 23, 2017

Apr 23, 2017 at 3:15 AM UTC

sarah-kunz

Love=You

I want to know I'm loved with unwavering certainty. Crisp clarity. As if love was a bubbly boil pasted right in mid of my forehead. Constantly reminding me of its existence, bumptious and irritating, but ever present and glorious. I want a love I fear is nullified buried in the graveyard of childhood fantasies. For in all reality No man will love you for you in unadulterated vivacity. The real world is tainted by the mind of biology, terminating the dream of true love and all of the accompanying fluffy stuff. There's no sense spending our days mourning the falsified dreams of our youth. There's only one person on this earth that can make you happy and that'd be YOU

9

My head makes home on your silken bare chest. I listen to the bumptious show raging beneath your flesh. Your heart oscillating like a finicky fan, your hand stops to rest at the nape of my neck. "What are you looking for?" You ask in an anxiously fettered tone. I begin to smirk at the ambiguity of the question, although I very well know your intention. I decide to stay ginger and ask "what do you mean?" The cacophonous swirl begins to whir in your chest, like an overloaded laundry machine. "...with us?" You finally suggest. "Yes" I answer in curt fashion, beaming in certainty as he draws me in so we can meld together. An anchoring connection leaving an indent in the earths crust and between the both of us. The answer is "yes".

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Dec 22, 2016

Dec 22, 2016 at 5:05 PM UTC

sarah-kunz

The answer

My head makes home on your silken bare chest. I listen to the bumptious show raging beneath your flesh. Your heart oscillating like a finicky fan, your hand stops to rest at the nape of my neck. "What are you looking for?" You ask in an anxiously fettered tone. I begin to smirk at the ambiguity of the question, although I very well know your intention. I decide to stay ginger and ask "what do you mean?" The cacophonous swirl begins to whir in your chest, like an overloaded laundry machine. "...with us?" You finally suggest. "Yes" I answer in curt fashion, beaming in certainty as he draws me in so we can meld together. An anchoring connection leaving an indent in the earths crust and between the both of us. The answer is "yes".

11

horn-rimmed spectacles would fit her well, a wide-eyed owl surveying tree dell, scanning everything from her perch, watching the battle-field, ready to lurch with still glance, as priest with bell, all and sundry, she seeks to quell, with tongue as whip to flail and scourge, all else besmear, purge and smirch if she berates, she'll make it clear, her will is paramount, just quake in fear from the rooftop she seeks applause and will rejoice in finding flaws bumptious 'n pushy, she rules her cell, hers is paradise, all others, hell, if you're lucky, you may carry her verge, and at her bequest, sing her dirge

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Jun 8, 2021

Jun 8, 2021 at 7:00 AM UTC

david-r

a portrait

horn-rimmed spectacles would fit her well, a wide-eyed owl surveying tree dell, scanning everything from her perch, watching the battle-field, ready to lurch with still glance, as priest with bell, all and sundry, she seeks to quell, with tongue as whip to flail and scourge, all else besmear, purge and smirch if she berates, she'll make it clear, her will is paramount, just quake in fear from the rooftop she seeks applause and will rejoice in finding flaws bumptious 'n pushy, she rules her cell, hers is paradise, all others, hell, if you're lucky, you may carry her verge, and at her bequest, sing her dirge

16

Bumptious air bag bloating inside your head heftily quivering like an earthquake causing a catastrophe among us covering casulties underneath the shreds.

0

May 26, 2018

May 26, 2018 at 10:14 AM UTC

shingaraya

BOAST

Bumptious air bag bloating inside your head heftily quivering like an earthquake causing a catastrophe among us covering casulties underneath the shreds.

11