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Long Giggle Poems | Long Giggle Poetry

Long Giggle Poems. Below are the most popular long Giggle by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Giggle poems by poem length and keyword.

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Long Poems
Long poem by Joe Flach | Details |

Keeping Poop in Perspective

I walk my dog every day – usually, several times a day.  I probably remember to take a doggie-poop-bag with me 95% percent of the time.  Because she also runs loose in our fenced in back yard – my dog probably only poops on our walks 25% of the time.  But – that 5% of the time that I forget to bring along a poop-bag guarantees that she poops 100% of the time on those occasions!  Or, so it seems.

This morning, I forgot to stick a poop-bag in my pocket for our morning walk.  She pooped.  So, I turned around and went back home to get a poop bag to pick up her mess.

As we returned to the scene of the crime, I discovered we were too late.  Two women, one hopping up and down, steaming mad and shouting obscenities, were standing near, what was now a smashed pile of doggie do-do.

“I am so sorry,” I said as I walked up to clean up the remaining mess.

“Sorry,” the hopping lady shouted, “sorry doesn’t help me now, does it?  Why the hell can’t you people clean up after your dogs?  How hard is it to keep your damn dog from sh*tting on the sidewalk?”

“I am sorry,” I repeated.  “I always pick up after my dog, I just forgot the bag this morning and rushed right home to get it.  I apologize I did not get back here before you came along.”

“Well, a lot of god-damned good that does me now,” she continued to shout.  “My shoes are ruined thanks to you.  God damn it!”

“Look, lady,” I said, trying to remain calm.  “I said I was sorry.  If your shoes are ruined, give me your name and address and I will send you the money for new shoes.”

“Thanks a lot”, still shouting, “but, you’ve just ruined my whole day.  I try to take a walk in the morning to start the day off right and idiots like you have to go and f*ck it all up!”

 “Ma’am,” I said, in as calm a voice as possible, “I think you should keep this in perspective.  You stepped in a pile of dog sh*t and got it all over your shoe.  It’s not like you stepped in a pile of cancer and got it all over your body.  You can go home and throw your shoes out and let me buy you a new pair – your prognosis looks pretty good.  And, it is up to you.  You can allow this small matter to ruin your whole day or you can go on with your day and be thankful that this is probably the worst thing that will happen to you today.  The choice is yours.  I suggest you make a wise one.”

Her friend, whose shoulder she was leaning on to keep the soiled foot off of the ground, although I am not sure why she was hopping around like she had a broken foot, couldn’t help but start to smile and giggle, just a little bit.

The furious woman looked angrily at her friend; looked down on me in contempt as I picked up the remaining poop; looked at my dog who just stood there with her tail wagging madly and, after a minute or two, miraculously calmed down; put her raised foot back on the ground; and, smiled.

“You know what,” she asked, “you are right.”  Her friend winked at me and she continued.  “It is just a pile of dog sh*t.  I can absolutely get over this and not let it ruin my day.  You know what else?  Of all the piles of dog sh*t in this world, I’m glad I stepped in yours.  Thank you for your offer to buy me a new pair of walking shoes, but that won’t be necessary, I’ll keep these, thank you.  And, every day I put these shoes on for my morning walk I will be reminded that I did not step into a pile of cancer and I will think about those poor souls who have and keep my miseries in perspective.  Thank you for that reminder.”

She and her friend turned and continued on their morning walk laughing along the way.

I patted my dog on her head; tied the poop bag closed; and made a promise not to forget the darn poop bags ever again.

(This is a fictional tale.  I thought this story up as I was walking back to my house to get a poop bag to pick up my dog's pile this morning after I forgot the bag.)


Long poem by Peter Dome | Details |

I'm sure I saw a Pixie wave to me from a train

It was a warm summers day and I was walking down the lane
when suddenly
I'm sure I saw a pixie
waving to me from a train
And later I saw him again
A Pixie waving to me from a train.

''Yoo hoo''

Well! I was so surprised I scratched my head
and had to pinch myself
just in case I was dreaming in my bed.

So I carried on with my walk
down the lane
when suddenly
I heard someone laughing at me

''he he he''
I turned around to see a cheeky laughing Elf
sitting in a tree.

I tickled his Belly
and he chuckled with glee

''eee eee e''.

He was hungry
so we built a campfire
and toasted muffins for our tea.

The Elf was so thankful
he gave me three wishes
But!
I gave them away
to the Pixie on the train I saw waving to me
from the train earlier that day.

You see sometimes
it gives you more pleasure to give than 
receive
to those who need it
more than we.

So the next time
you see a train go by
you just might see
A Pixie on a 
train
wave at you
like he did to me.




Peter Dome.copyright.2013. July.


























































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































Long poem by Wrulf Gunkl-VonGlashaus | Details |

Jigsaw Puzzle

(Manifesto) 

VIII … stop! - Skid! - Shift knobs, slide gears, vomit numbness, fondle!… the music of 
guillotines!… 

VII … unmannered retching! since everything is a percentage of death in motel prayer-nights 
separated from unholy echoes and junkyard dogs yapping the insanity by disdain mating 
hysterical drools with refried rectitude, masticating giggling shame: “That dog, there, lifting a 
leg, there, back-alley sodomy of wetness in air – Hush, mentioned for headstones only” 
strewn among graveyards, sweet-jeezus jukeboxes purple-trumpeting along the borders of 
Their juice: “Yes, Holy! Holy! Holy!” screaming down the Holy Ghost and Fire in prayer-
gutters backbiting along time of choicely chosen madonnas weeping children dear-jeezus-
glittering through open legs into angst, screaming tilted jigsaw puzzle pizza-glitzy jive for 
crumbling bridges back and forth between us and wrinkles of self-righteously disgusted 
divinity… 

VI … bloodcurse-running! 

V … in dark rain! Red Sea deluges of body burning with love or shame-delight while 
lightnings flash through babies’ mouths giggling thunder rattling screaming jigsaw puzzle 
dripping into gelled pots of leftover Judgement “Not here, not there, not any nor every when 
or now!” “Jilt the proper puke! Go with pyromania! Torch the Dogma State! – the pimps of 
puppy pimple-love!” who juggle governed durges of rote, “Save the children!” - lapdogs 
yipping the absurd reprobation of cloned devotion drowning unwashed questions, non-visa 
versa versus vice: “Dead business liturgy!… 

IV … confessing in whimpers while love returns unwashed by tears of joy with eyes unwept 
and blank - chameleon colors change with choice of sins - the tilt, undropped shoe, The Word 
beyond all words waiting in the hush of The Timeless Whisper, the sighing , yet, of a stinging 
sweetness: blushing dawn draped like a Bridal Veil! Hear it, touch the deep Hymnal-Wraith 
when the darkness yawns and Gypsy-Sun slips mirthy skyward with giggle of wind in birth - 
stallions chasing mares, babies playing the alleys of apple-cider autumn, Soon, amethyst-
glittter of dusk and Gypsy-Sun kiosk-safe beyond; moon, then, perhaps, and lovers’ 
juxtaposition before rooster-purple dawn with All contained in all, 

III … and the why of how, when and where, the where of how, when and why… all we, here, 
in roads, fields, cradles, in streets… 

II … the rain! - the dark rain!… 

I … ascending silence like cathedral-chills of tomb up spine… 

O… oh sweet, snorting jeezus…


Long poem by Jessica Arteaga | Details |

Dancing Queen (1)

...
Just walk up to her!
Just move on leg in front of the other and move your lips up and down for speech!
Then suavely put your hand in her hand and walk together!
It's that easy man!
...
Yeah right!

Standing in this hallway with it's many red lockers
makes me feel like I'm in that scene in that movie the Shining.
You know the part when the elevator opens and all this blood starts gushing out?
Yeah...all these red lockers...I feel like I'm swimming in a sea of it.
So I'm pretty much wading in a hallway for a girl that has put me in the friend zone
to get out of class, so I could hopelessly try to move out of that zone.
The one I want to be put it...as long as I don't do anything stupid that she levels me down.

Still got five minutes
...hmm pacing to my direction is...i think...yeah its Glenn.
The queen of drama, he's the head quote on quote top actor in class
and has been given the title queen for his skill and well...you know...

Wait 
He's approaching me 
What could he possibly-are those girl shoes he's holding?

Hey David!
IWasPossiblyWonderingIfYouCouldTryTheseOnForMe!
YouSeeIBeenHavingTroubleFindingTheRightSizeForThisGuy
That'sGoingToBeInOurPlay,ButHeKeepsGettingSick!
SoIHaveToKeepGettingPeopleThatLookLikeTheyCouldBeHisSize
SoICanGetTheWardrobeTogether!CouldYouImagine!

...Glenn was always a fast talker...
and most people that have spoken more than twice to me
already know me as the yes man...
Not like a brown noser! I just can't say NO to people.

Um sure but, why is this guy wearing girl shoes?

OH!Don'tTellMeYouDon'tKnowWhatTHePlayIsAbout!
I'veBeenPostingFLyersAllOverTheUniversity!
It'sQuiteFun!We'rePrettyMuchDoingAShowOfThisMovieCalled Kinky Boots!
HaveYouSeenIt?It'sSoEntertaining!AndOneOfTheCharacterIsADragQueen!

Oh um okay but, right here?

YesPleaseIfYouDon'tMindItWillJustBeAQuickTry
I'veGotSoManyThingsOnMyPlate
That'sGoingStraightToMyHips!
OhFMLDramDramaDramaI'veBeenDealingWith!

I just pull away the the red high heel pumps away from him
so he could shut up already.
I thins he talks fast so he could just talk more.

And there I was, in my black sweater wearing my khaki shorts
bending my knees barely standing in these knee high,
high heeled, red pump of shoes.

..and of coarse she steps out of class in the display I'm in.

She stares her brown doe eyes at me 
as others also do but continue to walk.
Some point and luagh, some just shake there heads and giggle,
and other brave ones comment along the way and say sarcastically NICE SHOES.


Long poem by Poet Destroyer A | Details |

Karma

Yesterday, I followed her true invisible form
Colors turning a kaleidoscopic deep and warm

A state of mind, that makes reality feel alive
Stabbing moments that teach how tough it is to survive
And still this dagger is penetrating into my back real slow
Sweeping away the grimace under the rug in a one woman show 

Illusive dreams asking for more and more
Sinking with doom, as karma sways through heaven's door
There she keeps her walk on stilts avoiding kismet
Removing every single footprint before sunset

Spending eternity planning the bliss we cannot see
Quenching my confidence, with a moisture that pleasures me
Arching a dirty deed, aiming all fingers that point at me
Spreading her demonic ecstasy, a mass of light weight, we can't see

A giggle-some laugh, I cannot hear
Tainted, in a nefarious way as the night disappears
Delighted, she glistens through the celestial world alone
A whisper of love with an impossible auspicious tone

Epic and exquisite, she works incognito striking whomever she wants
She Is The Enigma!" She Is the Illness~ that forever haunts
A mysterious lady whose perception flows with her own timeless oasis
An Empress is working on her own simplicity basis

My body impervious to react to conflicts that dwell with deep desire
Aggressively my defiant ways will allow her excessive universe to transpire
Like a lily we give in to the beauty of her empress exploding ravenous lust
It's magical and feeds off of the revenge that deepens with thrust

Down in the lilac valley, storming down like a glacier leaving nothing below
We caress we emerge, then we dust off the repellent of her forsaken glow
Leaving us with wounds, when our conflicts ricochet
Impacting us with a rebound when everything bounces back our way

She Springs in like a breeze that dwells and leaves gallivant
Past shadows, swing back with a darker chant
Leaving nothing but a Chinese Aster garden terrace
Her crown, sheer vixen and vigor with Victoria's fantastical lace

Her candle desalinate effect with a gentle glow
Everything to her is an issue with the results that come and go
Karma's punishments sail real slow, against the wind, waged by the zephyr
Rebuilding from the aftermath of, Karma's payback splenetic weather

Close your eyes and feel the consequences we embrace
Secretly every wage comes with reward from our hubris sin
A grasp with no escapes from the repercussion and deeds in our hearts
Doors spillover, in a significant unexplained phenomenal start

...


Long poem by Charmaine Chircop | Details |

Feel ME..

Feel me an emotion deep inside your heart,a soft crimson rose reicarnated,
a red heart full of velvet petals ,birthed from a white wild simple daisy 
embroided in mystique passion,a bacchus of wine in finest aroma of verses,
and deepest thoughts of you.Feel me ,as I come back to you,in your night,a 
gentle sweet wind through your open window, caressing your face,breezing you 
in  a sweet dream,breathin you in,lullabying you on a ride just for two,me and 
you,in a beautiful  forest  by the lake,lying down on a carpet of golden 
leaves.Feel me there,once again,Feel me so very close to you.taste me,taste 
my juicy strawberry lips as we kiss,a wet kiss.Feel me in the fresh liquid 
raidrops cleansing your mind,from every worry,from every trouble, as i pat your 
back,and listen to you,to your wants,to your needs,and to your every 
thought.Let me listen to your silent voice,echoing inside my own existence!Let 
me feel you,your wishes,your dreams,your past,your present,Let me listen to 
who you are and what you are,what you want,let me be here,feel me,cos I am 
here for you.Feel that little soft spot in my heart,that soft spot full of 
love and warmth ,reserved just for you.Feel me as we dream,as we hug,as we 
snog,under yesterday's lanterne,in the park,holding hands ,once again.
Feel me as we walk and talk,smile and giggle all the way,Feel me as we lie on 
the rocks,gazing in each other's eyes,cheered by tamed silver waves,covered 
by a warm balnket of shining  stars,Hugging the golden Moon,in blue black 
velvet skies.Feel me as i dip my brush  in oils,painting this path,a garden of 
Eden,created just for you.A path of coloured rainbows where we can walk.where 
we can dream,where we can live and love,where we will never lose each other 
again.A path where emotions and feelings aren't hid.a path, where i will always 
feel loved by you,and you will always feel loved by me.Feel me a candle flame 
born just for you.I don't wanna go away again,I want to stay here with you.I 
don't want you to go away,I want you to stay here,with me.I want you to love 
me ,as you did in the past,I want to feel your passion,your love  once again,I 
want to feel your hearbeat,that heart, i loved so much.I want, need to know 
you love me still. Feel my love,cos i always loved you ,and I always will.Feel me 
as your  hand cups my breast.Let your palm feel the drumming of my 
heart,Feel me, cos I'm still so much in love with you.


Charma


Long poem by busane shoba | Details |

Love you always

Now that the rain is gone,

I can see clearly again.

I can make comparisons

 between the stars and your eyes.

Because they shine alike,

And both carry unsung beauty.


Like an artist takes time to perfect their work,

 so was the creator when it was ya turn with his hands.

you must have been born on a sunday,

when God was taking a rest from earthly events

and he took all the time with you. 

You are God sent,

 I was lucky to have you,

That is why i will never loose you,

As precious as diamonds are to many,

 you are to me.


you are a part of me now,

Ma wish is you hold me as special as I do to my life. 

When a day passes by without seeing me,

Do not cry for me,

because oceans alike,

your cheeks will be,

I won't be anywhere to wipe away the tears,

 

but will not forsake you,

every time I turn ma back and walk away from you,

It is not meant to be forever,

 I will be back to be with you,

Whatever circumstances may stand in our way,

 we shall overcome,

 For in tandem we will rise

and in tandem we will be stalled as the road narrows,



True love is what guides what we have,

Forever we shall hold on to each other

 as each day brings joy to our lives,

 enriched with love and devotion,

because love and devotion are as earth and sky are,

ONE

neither exists without the other.

may you be blessed with the infinite joy from such a love,

let happiness bring light to our lifes,

so we can pull thru and stay together forever,

and lets bring comfort to each other,



i will hold you in my arms evry chance i get,

and even if the missisippi flows down your cheeks

from your eyes, i will keep them  dry....

when nights become cold

i will hold you in my arms and keep you warm.

for the long nights i will hold you gently

and let you enjoy the beutiful sleep

i will watch over the sleepning beauty

 and wonder how God came to create such as you,

and during the day i will keep you company

 and put a smile on the cute face of yours

I will kiss your lips that are so soft and sweet,

then move on to your cheek that are so smooth and unique.

and wait for giggle for i know it will come,

i love you.



this isn't a game but true love is the name.

It's an everlasting love we endure

a love so clean and so pure.

A love so deep yet unseen.

forever truely yours..............


Long poem by Robert William Gruhn | Details |

Ever Jumped A Train - Part 4 - Robert and Ernie Adventures

That train took us north after our Washington D.C. stop,
Suddenly there it was looming grand on the horizon.
I told Ernie I was so excited to see the Big Apple,
He blinked up at me with that hobo mouse look I loved.

He said I don't see any apples as he squeaked out a giggle,
I said no Ernie I'm talking about New York don't you know?
He really had a confused look on his face at that point,
This place has buildings shaped like cheese he smartly said.

Robert, why would a place like that be called the Big Apple?
Oh great I thought, I'm tramping a train with a wise guy. 
Ernie, didn't you know we humans name things they aren't?
He rolled over on his back letting out a loud squeaky laugh.

What's so funny Ernie, can't you see that I'm serious?
He said yes and that was the most humorous part of me.
That expression you get Robert is really truly hilarious, 
You humans have always cracked me up when you're mad.

Ernie, being serious is not the same thing as getting angry.
Well he said they look the same to me when I see them.
In fact they look more similar than apples and buildings,
So is this why you two legged creatures seem so confused?

We're not always confused I said to Ernie with a poker face,
He said last time he saw that expression was in a morgue.
Later on though the live guy put a smile on that dead guy,
Ernie began rolling around squealing and he put one on mine.

You know my tiny friend I said, I knew you were intelligent,
But this time you have proven your sense of humor to me.
I've always believed there's no greater humor that exists,
Than one which allows another to laugh at their self.

I was just speaking my mind with no sense of levity he said,
Ernie, you just don't know when to quit do you mouse I said.
He laughed and said he just wanted to see that look again,
So I lay down closed my eyes and gave him a poker face.

I even held my breath and didn't move for a couple minutes,
Ernie freaked out and began to run up and down on my face.
He sniffed at my nostrils for signs of any outgoing air,
I burst out laughing and almost blew him out of the box car.

I reached out and grabbed him as he tumbled across the car,
Placing him up on my chest I said, Ernie we have to talk.
He said he thought that's what we already had been doing,
Running down my leg he tickled my toes and made me laugh.

(to be continued)

Copyright © 2014 Robert William Gruhn A.R.R.


Long poem by Jayeeta Shamsul | Details |

The Scroll of Sorceress

The Scroll of Sorceress:
I do dark arts,
I do allure men to beat drums,
I cast spell through evil eye beads,
My dirty tricks no one reads,
I am someone who never cheats.
I am dark art goddess,
I am wise sorceress!!
I am black magic woman,
I can shun every omen,
I purify things in my oven,
I romance with raven,
I love the idea of ‘Amen’.
I write sagacious scrolls,
I recognize the precious stones,
I make perfume from touchwoods,
I create geometric signs to search hidden gold.
I learn oral-fictions from people,
I love how children giggle,
I hear the murmur of Brooke’s ripple.
Sometimes, I hate to deal with wisdom jiggle.
I do worship tribal totems,
I make sacred threads in their names,
I pour folk medicines into my talismans,
Still, I make people believe in magic essentials!!
I read books with my philosopher lover,
He stays with me till the day is over,
With him I desire to hover,
Around the world!!
He is the prophet of wisdom,
He knows the language of freedom,
He considers my scrolls superficial;
Above all, he’s my lover sagacious!!
He is philanthropist to the humanity,
Still, he desires to apply rules on me,
He wants me to be his personal sorceress
But I’m my spells’ seductress!!
The thread b/n us leans a bit more,
I welcomed a necromancer on my heart’s shore;
I learn to tame evil spirits from him,
To make my life-pot brim.
With nova nectars of dream.
The necromancer gave me a lamp of happiness,
He’s erased my sourness,
I’ve recognized true zeal & zest,
I’m his pet goldfish.
He’s melted down my anguish,
I’m happy to be his personal wish.
Of late, I’m seeing a priestess,
She is my new enchantress,
I give oblations to my goddess;
With her, I explore new roads,
To search the omnipotent gods!!
I believe in myself,
I know god can be lover,
Sex can be sacred,
Body can be celebrated,
Scars can be a mask of beauty!!
And my lover is my Jesus,
Jesus is my lover!
In my world, a criminal falls for angel,
Angel falls for the sinner.
Violence can coexist with peace
You can carry knife and books,
You can pollute the air.
These are my scrolls, I dare to decode,
Still, I’m supercilious sorceress,
I ogle at evil eye beads,
I occult to make you healed.
I shiver in sheer joy,
When my lovers enjoy my words.
I an angel of darkness,
I am the ultimate empress,
Of your guilty pleasure.
And it’s always better to be bad,
Than wearing a mask of being good!!
 


Long poem by Mark Matthews | Details |

Signed In Blood (part 3)

I shake out my jacket
    and crack my neck
to regain my control
       although I’m enjoying 
    being hostile.
The room is now darker than pitch
        so I remove my shades
from the windows
             to let in
the moon’s
     blue luminescence,
as the light returns
           and the blood turns a shade of black
I drop the illusion,
       release my true self
for the few left to see.

All through the place
    I can hear
        the whimpers and cries
of the few remaining.
I smear into the shadow
   under a table
       and as I locate 
  the stragglers
I dispatch them
          tearing out throats,
spraying myself down
      with their
once life supporting liquid.

Then there were three.

Rising from the darkness
of the footrest
         under the bar
I stand before 
    the one on the stool
          and bare 
my blood slickened teeth
    then lick the gore
       from my claws
getting shivers
                from the taste.

With a snap of my fingers
     her restraints dissolve,
  not like she can go anywhere.
She just sits there
                    trembling,
    trying to find her voice
but its hard
        with the gaping hole
in her jaw.
I raise my 
    black,
          coarse tentacles
and grab her
  by each wrist and ankle
        bringing her off her last seat
and start stretching her
                 before me,
her vocal cords
     start to work now
as she assaults me
    with the most
         pain filled scream
my ears have had the pleasure
                       of hearing.
           (Ahhhh)

All I do
       is keep staring
into those
      beautiful,
    pain drenched eyes,
        and pulling.
I can hear
the tendons and ligaments
        popping and snapping
as the shoulders and hips
              begin to separate,
with a sickly,
        wet ripping sound
her right arm
           and left leg
come free,
     then the other arm.
Holding onto 
   the last limb left
I swing her about,
            into ceiling,
floor,
      then the bar
with bone shattering force,
   I dissolve my tendrils
back into myself
     then reaching down
I snag her ponytail
    and tug it out
of the lump
             that was her head
and add it to my other
         on my belt.

I hear a cell phone ringing
       for someone
              who doesn’t need it anymore
and I giggle
at how ironic it is.


Long Poems