Long Bantering Poems
Long Bantering Poems. Below are the most popular long Bantering by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Bantering poems by poem length and keyword.
Why is ‘Almost Good Enough’
never what you need?
Why is ‘Clearly Not Enough’
an ounce more than you deserve?
Why is ‘Almost What You Need’
the most you’ll ever have?
Why is ‘It’s Not Only That’
the only thing that’s left?
Why is ‘In Almost Every Case’
not in any case at all?
Why is ‘In Lieu Of Everything Else’
the thing sure to be missed?
Why is ‘In Actuality’
in real terms actually not?
Why is ‘To Be Perfectly Honest With You’
the biggest lie you tell?
Why is the serious ‘Last Ditch Effort’
the one you continue to try?
Why is the ‘Absolute Final Time’
the one you repeat again?
Why is ‘Really’ not real at all
and spoken then in vain?
Why is ‘Probably’ not possible
or even close to that?
Why is the phrase ‘The Bottom Line’
the top of your agenda?
Why is the trusted ‘Old College Try’
strictly out of school?
Why is ‘Painstakingly Difficult’
the easiest thing you do?
Why is ‘No Sweat—The Deal Is Done’
so much harder than before?
Why is ‘Let’s Start At The Beginning’
the end of the debate?
Why is ‘The Last Word On The Matter’
the beginning of what comes next?
Why is ‘So What’ a euphemism
for the most important thing you do?
Why is ‘It Is What It Is’
categorically not, and never meant to be?
Why is ‘The Bull In The China Shop’
ceramic and for sale?
Why is the celebratory ‘Victory Lap’
the one taken in disgust?
Why is the magical ‘Three Point Shot’
four points more than its worth?
Why is the special ‘Love You Lost’
the only one you’ve never found?
Why is the figurative ‘Bird In Hand’
the one that flies away?
Why is ‘Bantering Back And Forth’
the silence you extol?
When will your words wrap like copper wire
to conduct the truth unrobbed
When will you cease to pander and mislead
—naked before the mob
(Villanova Pennsylvania: April, 2015)
Autumn sky glows yellow against blue hue sky;
turns windy, rainy a long languorous day.
Swirls of fresh intoxicating aria.
midmorning showers
rootless lingering rainbow~
scent of petrichor
Outdoors allure afresh, stunning once again.
Sun kissed fragrant richer fruitful harvest fields.
Woods once rich with leaves fall round and round with wings.
quenching nature's thirst
harmonious double arch~
whole world auspicious
An evening walk to the pond a calming sense;
near the bank we saw large bear paws sunk deeply
into the mud, quietly cutting our walk short.
black bear foraging
spawning fish bantering play~
heart beats in slumber
9/7/2020
Let the Pens Flow - Haibun Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Jenish Somadas
coronavirus
comes for the self-quarantine,
isolated life
coronavirus
comes to wear an oxygen mask,
to shut the mouth
for that virus
our dead while living existence
has nothing to do
isolation, closing door,
dazed lives in dark knowledge
for that virus
coronavirus
comes as the saboteur
spreading secret fear
coronavirus
does not believe in unity
of world human
coronavirus
refuses to worship together
in the prayer house
coronavirus
comes to lets go of the belief
that God exists
coronavirus
comes imperceptibly
with boat for the dead
death for the virus
giving birth new bantering tale
in that beliefs
who is Almighty?
in belief-disbelief game
God or the virus?
-19.03.2020 Chattogram
Rep. Kevin McCarthy is powwowing
with Pro-Trump, QAnon-loving kook, Greene.
The big contentious meeting!
So is he taming Jezebel as we speak?
Nope, they're having a wonderful dinner,
eating with plastic utensils; no sharpened knives
to slice and dice each other up with.
Oh, and Greene keeps the job McCarthy gave her!
It's all love between the two!
They're playing thumb wars and patty-cake
and rhapsodizing about you know who, bantering about
who loves him more.
No raised voices, just friends "catching up"
The punishment? ha! What punishment?
That's up to the Senate Dems.
Sorry to report, McCarthy will not lower the boom
on controversial Greene and cross Corleone,
oops, excuse me, wrong Don!
They'll wrap their meeting
video-calling the right one,
and they'll exchange I-love-yous
Move along, folks.
There's nothing
to see here...
Date written: 02/02/2021
subtitled: The Bolder Boys (rivals of The Golden Girls)
written for a word bank contest - twenty really weird ones
Two graying seniors with appalling chimera
bantering back and forth - mental meandering.
Be it mirage or dreams from another era -
they diminish the other's philandering.
Fanfaronade - from high school boys I would expect
now it re-appears in quite perceptible measures
from our retired magistrate whom I quite suspect
of erroneous accounts of addled pleasures.
While his cohort, an erratic ex-engineer
relates with brazen gibberish his tete a tetes.
At one time more clear and swift of eye and ear,
on blogs they ordain to publish communiqués.
I have found no diffidence which they jeopardize
making harmless though delectable advances,
Noted but honest attempts to digitize
their forte, their skill in dubious romances.
I offered an honorarium of great size
for the first one who would divest his florid page
of any contentious items - to sanitize. .
Gaga girlfriends grin and gush. They're cute at this age.
September 18, 2021
Britishness was fairness
Not bothered about race
Jokes that didn’t careless
taken with good grace
We didn’t take it serious
religion got a drilling
there were no inferiors
when there was derision
everything was personal
no grouping in together
words were never worst of all
a bantering endeavour
people got all sensitive
they were not integrated
it would have prevented it
now all we hear is hatred
accusations and censorship
from humour and free will
well I say you should get a grip
we don’t care how you feel
Imported with these people
a way that is not ours
deport yourself it’s simple
if words are giving scars
we don’t need to make the great
let’s make Great Britain British
it takes care to discriminate
you’re the victim of your image
I wish that I had choked and died
On those chocolate candy bars.
I wish my mom had tanned my hide
About those tempting cookie jars.
I wish that I'd been tarred and feathered
For the dinners that I skipped
Because I preferred to gorge my taste
On Lays Potato Chips.
I'd like of course to quite forget
The delightful sweet 'life savers'
Which turned out to be unfortunately
A roll of nice teeth haters.
I wonder why my father
Didn't put a final stop
To the in-and-out of the refrigerator door
For another soda pop.
In truth, I would have received more mercy
From a family of alligators
Than the sticky, gooey caramel
Of flavored 'Now and Laters'.
The bantering I'll put aside
For I must now reflect
On the searing pain that's gripped me
Consuming tooth and jaw and neck.
I do agree the joke's on me
Now would someone please find
The 'painkillers'; the Orajel
Before I lose my mind.
RETA PRUITT
August 8, 2016
Every one knows those cool old guys
who seem like they’ve always been there,
you see them in bit parts in movies,
they seem to pop up everywhere.
Sometimes they sing a new duet
with a hot, young star on the rise,
then ten years later, do it again,
with a whole new starlet this time.
You see them telling stand-up jokes,
the kind the young comics never will,
because honestly, at that age
what career do you have left to kill?
They’ll sit down on the late-night shows,
bantering with grand wit and charm,
blessed with the confidence of age,
there’s little that gets them alarmed.
You grow up seeing cool old guys,
institutions that live and breathe,
even if they don’t top the charts
they’re always a joy just to see.
You try to get to their concerts,
they become a right-of-passage,
become memes you share with your friends,
their best lines you use as adage.
In the background they’ve always been
throughout the life that you’ve led,
then one day you wake up and find out
that old Frank Sinatra is dead.
Then Johnny Cash, not long after,
and the Gipper, now he’s gone too.
Eventually, your grandparents go,
and the past they once linked to you.
Pillars that once seemed eternal,
crumble until there is only dust,
things that once seemed so very close
now seem to be nothing but rust.
Sure you can still hear the old songs,
watch the films of those bygone days,
but it becomes a mere shadow,
with them gone it is never the same.
And it feels a bit like you're adrift,
a rudderless boat on the sea,
times flies by, the cool, old guys die,
and the world seems a little less happy…
The Rainy Month of September
We both did quaver in our perchance encounter,
When she slipped under my umbrella seeking shelter,
From the splatter in the rainy month of September.
And my heart palpitated as we made bantering chatter,
While my eyes progressed to scan her alluring composure,
There under my brolly in the rainy month of September.
The dying summer’s weather enabled our exposure,
To which we both confessed as to what was our pleasure,
In the atmosphere of the rainy month of September.
Though fairer skies breached to dampen my spirit,
The flower of my eye dithered and did not wither,
And I wished it’d rain forever in the month of September.
My husband makes car deals
He has bought thirty-eight cars for us and others
He loves the bantering of prices
Something I despise
I am used to walking
We get so close, but they will not come down
To the price he wants
Insists on
So we walk.
We have walked away from more deals than we have closed
We walked away from eleven car deals in a row once
At ten different dealers
They always think we love the car too much to walk.
There is always another car; we know that.
At one point he turned to ask me if we had a check.
I almost fell off the chair.
We were buying one!
I had become so used to walking
I had not thought to bring one
And neither had he.