Long Bella Poems
Long Bella Poems. Below are the most popular long Bella by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Bella poems by poem length and keyword.
O Querida, la Brote más hermosa --- Una canción para Rosario
¡Esta es para ti, señora!
Alfa eres mi brote más hermoso;
Un día, tal vez seas mi esposa más bella
Creciendo juntos en el jardín tú y yo seremos nosotros.
Rodeado de la belleza que Dios ha concedido.
Y tu eres mi
Eres mi hermosa brote
Hermoso brote, ven planta conmigo
Para que estemos
Creciendo en el jardín generosamente.
Mi amor por ti es como el brote más hermoso,
Tu cara me recuerda a las mariposas pensativas,
Juntos, somos como el vino y el aceite de oliva.
Oh cariño ,
Mi hermoso brote,
Mi brote reflexivo,
El compañero perfecto para mi alma del vino.
Las rosas son rojas, los cielos son azules,
Me gustan los amaneceres,
¡Pero no tanto como me encanta cantar contigo!
Oh cariño ,
Tus manos son como flores de gracia en un día de primavera.
Eres como la madre más devota para caminar.
Tu cara de mariposas pensativa,
Tu alma de aceite de oliva, tus manos de gracia.
Tu madre orante siendo ...
¿Cómo podría mirar a otro cuando nuestro hermoso brote de amor es tan fuerte?
Alfa eres mi brote más hermoso;
Un día, tal vez seas mi esposa más bella
Creciendo juntos en el jardín tú y yo seremos nosotros.
Rodeado de la belleza que Dios ha concedido.
Y tu eres mi
Eres mi hermosa brote
Hermoso brote, ven planta conmigo
Para que estemos
Oh cariño ,
Mi hermoso brote,
Mi brote reflexivo,
El compañero perfecto para mi alma del vino.
3/7/19
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr. 2019©
WEEBLES WOBBLE BUT THEY DON'T FALL DOWN
wicked wobbly weebles both wondrously
Junior Super Stretchy shame
Hippity Hop astonishly
Crazy forts
glow in the dark
Limbo Hop
Weebles wobble but they don't fall down
The Cat in the Hat I Can Do That
Junior Super Stretchy I do blame
Sunny Patch Bella Butterfly Hopscotch
Jungle Jive Jungle Jive, Oh my
hold the plastic "amazing egg" and perform moves directed
By the cute monkey on a series of cards
Weebles wobble but they don't fall down
But if they tip or drop the egg, they'll wake the giggly baby bird inside
Melissa & Doug Monster Bowling
indoor bowling set is fun, funky, and furry
Set up the pins for a game that's active, but also quiet
—well, except for the giggles
Wobble Deck wiggles
Weebles wobble but they don't fall down
challenge their balances and improve their coordination and reflexes
While all the Gen X's walk and text
Falling off curbs and stairs
All this and grand pa dropped his cane
After that he slipped and fell on his can
Weebles wobble but they don't fall down
10/31/18
Written by James Edward Lee Sr. ©2018
This book by Bella Beaumont
“Amalia in the Cabana”
Reminded me of my Amalia
From Cañete, in the province of Cuenca
Who, in a shepherd’s cabin
Near the Poza de la Horca
At the foot of the hermitage
Of the Virgin of the Zarza
The town’s patron saint
Showed me, while on all fours
What her pussy looked like when she peed.
I had my little willy out
Ready to dance it about
Eager to get it wet.
She is Amalia del Hornillo
I am Pedro Morrón; both of us
Children of Civil Guards.
Since we were children of Civil Guards,
We dreamed that when we married
We would marry in the Cuenca Cathedral
And that when we died
We would be buried beside the altar
O the hermitage
Of the Virgin of the Zarza
Her first, and me two steps behind
Because Civil Guards
Are more important than Castilian nobles
The Masters of the Order of Santiago
Or the King’s royal favorites
Just as our mothers told us.
Her pussy seemed strange to me
But since she was very pretty,
I found it enchanting
Especially when, from the hole
Where her golden urine fell
A couple of Cañete crickets emerged
Stopping right there and ceasing itsr song.
I picked up the crickets
And placed them on the tip of my cock
And as luck would have it
They began to sing
Amalia threw her panties at them
To make them hush
In the style of ladies and young girls
Throwing theirs to bullfighters
To win from them an ear or a tail
Trophies earned through their art
Of bullfighting and killing.
-I know you’re going to Madrid
And I’m staying behind, Amalia told me.
I replied:
-I know you’re going to Barcelona.
Now, if you like, we must seal
Our love by joining our bodies.
-Yes, let’s join together like Mom and Dad do.
We pressed our bodies together
Without doing anything wrong.
As we left the spot
To head back to the barracks
Our home
We both looked back
And saw a rosebush sprouting from the ground.
She came home without her panties
And I, with my cock hanging out.
When Amalia walked into her house
She felt the blood flowing
Between her thighs and cried out:
-Mom, my period’s started!
When I got home
I went to the bathroom
To have a loud vigorous wank
Dreaming I was making love
To the armadillo, the pufferfish
Or the turtle.
So Proud of You Bella
By Franklin Price
10/27/2016
So proud of you Bella
AKA Lieutenant Kemp
You've grown to quite woman
In the Air Force, not a wimp
Still excelling as you do
With more effort than appears
In the top of all your classes
You are wise beyond your years
Always there to lend a hand
A rock for every friend
They know you've always got their backs
On you they may depend
Learn a lesson from yourself
Real friends should be the same
You may depend when you need them
Part of the friendship game
Wrote this to remind you
That though we're Gram and Pop
We're always friends here for you
And that will never stop
Adamina and Everitt
Her rib it was before the Master lost the plot in evil Eden
when Bella Donna Adamina handed the fruit to her man
Deadly nightshade Everitt sensed he did not take God’s bate
‘I know my place she fights for women’s equal chances here’
Hell came first before the hedonistic pastures but the story
was fake narrative propaganda misconstrued representation
Wishbones candy apples fortune cookies when she climbed
his mountain unperturbed by twisted concubine conceptions
No blasphemous satanic verse but pages turned the roller coaster
and history of world ensued with passion’s flowers blooming large
18 March 2017
Narrative Two-liner Quintet from the Ministry of Truth
Our story began behind bars with the broken,
Displaying our armor with truths left unspoken.
Through the gates each day, our counselor hats on,
Where pain wore a face, and hope felt long gone.
You, with your wisdom and counselor’s grace,
Me, burnt out but still showing my face.
We stitched up souls with words and care,
In a world where few even knew we were there.
"Eight and the gate" rang like a drum in our chest,
Till we traded our keys for a long-needed rest.
No longer confined, our world opened wide,
With pups at our heels and friends by our side.
Bella, a farting cutie with sass to spare,
Jack Dangles—cutest dude anywhere,
Ollie, judging all with a skeptical eye,
And mine, loyal, wild, barking at the sky.
We measured our days in tail wags and sparks,
And found light in our dogs when the world turned dark.
You’re my news anchor, my human rant,
My “yes you can” when I swear I can’t.
We share stories and snacks and fried calamari,
And laugh till we wheeze like a nursing home party.
You’re blue as the sky, I’m red underneath,
But we cry the same tears from sorrow and grief.
We talk of the world—no judgment, no shame,
Different opinions, but hearts just the same.
You bring the fire, and I bring the “me,
”?You rage at the news with raw clarity.
(You really should join that Trump-haters squad—
They’d give you a mic and a standing applaud.)
When the world gets too heavy, we know what to do—
Dogs, snacks, the news, and a cry or two.
You’ve saved me from drowning more than you know,
With sarcasm, love, and that fierce Jewish glow.
You check in with care that never feels fleeting—
Usually starting with, “Hey… what you eating?”
You’re braver than you’ll ever admit,
Still fighting each day with your sharp, clever wit.
You ache in the places that scream in the night,
But you rise. You stay. You still fight.
I’m twelve percent Jewish, I love to remind—
Which explains why I cry and complain all the time.
You yell “Borscht!”—I say, “What’s that mean
”You sigh, “Oh hush, just eat something green.”
You’re my friend beyond what words can explain—
Through doctor reports and every bloodstain.
If life’s a long walk with no real map,
I’m glad it’s with you—nap by nap.
We’re still here. We’re still us.
Still wrapped in dog fur, still raising a fuss,
Partners in crime—chaos, a must.
Penne and spinach
with walnuts and gorgonzola
on top...ummmmmm.
All the fresh garden salad,
you can eat
and garlic bread sticks, too.
Black forest, cherry cheesecake,
with cherry syrup
rolling down the sides,
of a plate drizzled
the liquid chocolate.
Murals of flowery scenes
and music to set your mood;
old Italy permeates the senses,
while you dine in this place.
Bella cucina;
Such beautiful food!
Vita e bellissimo
quando hai cibo bellissimo.
Life is very beautiful,
when you have beautiful food.
'Cornucopia Cooking ' Contest Info
Sponsor: Chantelle Anne Cooke
Well, in the beginning I actually did not have a name
I was very young, not a kitten but not very old
and missed my mom so much
was scared of the cars, was hungry and lost
I was wandering a street crying and looking for her
night came and I hid under a bush
in the morning I crawled out and was crying
a lady approached and picked me up
I twisted this way and that trying to get away
but she was strong
she took me to her house and gave me food
I was so afraid but so hungry
and I heard her say . . . we cannot keep it
the next thing I know she put me in a box
and we were moving (in a car)
she took me to a home, knock, knock
Inside the box was opened and I saw a girl
she had long hair and kind eyes
and she smoothed my fur and said I was pretty
do you want her ... YES, of course
so I had a home now ....
a wonderful home full of love and cat toys
just for me
and she gives me treats and good food
I have a new mom and I love her so much
she gave me the name Bella and I like it
when I am scared . . .
I run under her bed and she said that is okay
she gave me a soft, fuzzy bed that I knead
and drool on (that makes her laugh)
I wait for her at the door and meow loudly
cuddle up when we watch TV
and snuggle when we go to bed
life is good
O I
love Bella
and her
pointy fluff ears
and long whiskers.
And oh those eyes
gold when excited
or moss green,
when calm,
I love her fur
so soft to touch.
So fluffy and purring.
She loves to cuddle
all the long night.
I hold her in my arms
when we go to bed.
She loves to play with me.
I throw balls and she runs.
I told my friends- no, no,
more cats for this here girl.
They said just give it time!
Oh, my- days were empty,
sometimes, I heard meows
call, call, calling for me.
But now my life is full
'cause,
I now
love
Bella
kitty
and
I think
she
loves
me
too.
Agnevee was particular and pertinacious.
People avoided her on the street.
She always had a cause, a candidate, a platform, a drive or a charity to talk up.
Agnevee’s pertinacity was well-known. She would not budge from any position.
It was laughable, silly, deemed crazy.
Her own relatives gave her the wrong time so she would be an hour late.
Agnevee’s neighbors cringed when they saw her come to her window.
They got in their cars and drove off when they saw her through her front door.
When she entered a store, utility company or post office, people scattered.
Conversations quickly dissipated, ceased, and were not resumed
upon Agnevee’s arrival. She had one friend, Bella, and she asked her about it.
Bella was new in town, and had no idea what was happening.
But the longer Bella and Agnevee were friends, the easier it was for Bella
to see what the trouble is. If she said brown, Agnevee corrected her, and called it copper.
If she said something nice about a candidate, Agnevee handed her pamphlets disparaging her.
Her fervent opinions were so deeply rooted, that she soon was not welcome
in Bella’s home either. So she wandered around, in her own nightmare, of her own making,
waiting for the next newcomer to move to town.