Long Belt out Poems
Long Belt out Poems. Below are the most popular long Belt out by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Belt out poems by poem length and keyword.
"Give Me Your Tired" posted 7 Jun 2021
i'd join the morning person's club except their meetings start before noon
early to bed, early to rise makes a man healthy, wealthy, and beat
they make clocks to tell me when to get up i need one to tell me why
a bicycle cannot stand up by itself because it is two-tired
my wife got tired of hearing my zodiak puns it taurus apart
teen's concept of an early bird: one who wakes up at the break of noon
[humor attribution - all humor found online, sources unknown]
"Just Asking (part III)" posted 14 Jun 2021
wow, is that an optical illusion or am I just seeing things?
why does the sun on the raisin bran cereal box wear sunglasses?
why are wise men and wise guys considered opposites of each other?
when styrofoam companies ship their product what do they pack it in?
if swimming is so great for the figure then how do you explain whales?
how does the person who drives the snowplow get to work in the morning?
[humor attribution - all humor found online, sources unknown]
"It's All In A Name" posted 21 Jun 2021
i visited a new dating website in Prague they call it ~ Czech Mate ~
there's a new contraceptive on the market it's called ~ i kid you not ~
my vote for the best beauty parlor name of all time ~ curl up and dye ~
good name for an ultra-conservative fashion boutique ~ clothes minded ~
maybe you shouldn't name your brand new restaurant ~ eater's digest ~
perhaps this plumbing company is worth a gamble ~flush or full house~
[humor attribution: #2 and #5 Edmo Snord, #3 and #6 are actual company names I've seen, others found online of unknown origin]
"Random Brain Guano (part III)" posted 28 Jun 2021
children are hereditary if your folks had none, neither will you
the best remedy for your bad memory is milk of amnesia
buy your valentine a bikini it's the least you can do for her
i tried making a belt out of watches it was a big waist of time
my toddler kept chewing on electrical cords so I grounded him
sometimes Bigfoot is confused with Sasquatch Yeti doesn't seem to mind
“You’re not a giddy teenager
So why can’t you act you’re age?”
I looked at him heartbroken
Then my body shook in a rage
“Being passionate about life
Means I am acting like a child?
You demand that I be demure
Does that mean being meek and mild?
No, no, my dear, I want to shout
I want to be crazy and mad
To stick my head out the window
Belt out love songs that make me glad
I want to let my body move
To a belly dance drumming sound
I want to feel young and alive
Make love without hushing the sound
On days when I water the yard
I want to get wet to the core
As I point the hose to the sky
The wetness makes me crave for more
I want to see my sun catcher
Make the rainbows dance on my wall
And have multicolored sweet dreams
I want to wander through them all
When you take me for a long ride
I’ll let the wind dance with my hair
I want the music to be loud
What if people just stop and stare?
I want to laugh till my sides hurt
And the tears are just streaming down
I want people to be happy
So I play the part of the clown
They say life begins at forty
Now I know that it does for me
Don’t you dare try to bring me down
You know this 'girl' needs to feel free
Peter Pan’s not the only one
Who will stay forever this young
He’s got me for good company
You know, we have songs yet unsung
So…please, if I am eccentric
And acting a little insane
Remember that I’m passionate
So please, I beg you, don’t complain
And when I want to be ravished
Or to play a naughty love game
Don’t say that was for way back then
Don’t you dare try to make me tame
I desire to ingest life
At a mad and frenetic pace
I am desperate to feel the rain
Splashing down on my upturned face
You know that I must be sun kissed
And to spray on coconut spray
To do handstands in seawater
And to bask in this sun drenched day
I want to cry when things move me
I want to feel, to taste, to touch
I want to giggle like a girl
When something does please me so much
I’m sorry I disappoint you
Sorry I don’t act forty five
But before this life is over
I want to feel vibrant…alive!
Yet, I will try not to shame you
Try to tone it down just a bit
But my dear, this fact you must know
In your box, I surely don’t fit
Yes, you may think I’m 'immature'
And I may act much like a teen
But I’d rather be wild and free
Than captive to rules like a queen."
Eileen Manassian Ghali
Witness breakout talent which aired Jan 13, 2020
on America's Got Talent: The Champions episode,
which starred Youtube phenom Marcelito Pomoy
Words superfluous to attempt
registering apropos accolade
of modest Filipino, whose
dog given gift to belt out
jaw dropping, eye opening,
heart stopping, ad nauseum
vocalization merits deserving
laudatory praise haint no charade,
cuz aforementioned young man
warrants his own
yellow brick road esplanade
his pronounced nonpareil ability
automatically, instantaneously, unequivocally
promotes him to meteoric rise highest grade
way above stratosphere of mere mortals
into pantheon where select angels invade
celestial sphere (think Thomas Kinkade,
whose painting skills indubitably made
admirers of his creations invariably wish
to merge and become overlade
with bucolic, exotic, kinetic...
more picturesque than Grosse and Quade
found with environs of Schwenksville,
yet some idyllic and rhapsodic utopian
place where sounds of nature serenade
said metaphorical description falls short
how his raw emotion
(aching with divine amazing grace)
collaborates, communicates, consummates...,
poignant rappelling, scaling, traversing
across moost rugged landscape unmade.
Ye too must get linkedin
to the following webpage
https://www.youtube.com/
watch?v=hcgvYr2nlrk
heals analogous as mental,
physical and spiritual triage
world wide web inadequate
for Marcelito Pomoy stage
suddenly... melts away
the global hostility and rage
moments ago unbeknownst
anonymous to yours truly,
a veritably unknown
outsize venerated personage
with megawatt smile,
catapulted amongst luminaries,
whereby me feeble and
lame attempts to craft far less
brilliant literary evocations,
nevertheless no overdosage
of audiological exposure
to savor and espy breath-taking
visualization of entrancing
fantastic gracious holy image,
now impossible mission
to decouple myself toward
listening and watching
mesmerizing powerful fellow,
who I admit unwittingly
voluntarily holds me hostage.
A Hard Beginning
The cough continues.
My head... aches,
but there are needles in my eyes,
that will not stop poking my lids.
Everything hurts today,
that did not hurt yesterday.
Today all things that hurt
yesterday, have found new
purpose in their vendetta
against me.
It is hard to be sick,
especially when there are things to do.
I want to go and dance and play.
I want to sing, where no one can hear me,
so I can be loud and strong,
about my emotions.
That, without hurting the feelings of others,
I could belt out my favorite tune.
Yet, here I am coughing into my elbow,
wishing that my rib cage would quit,
rattling.
It is just a cold, but it has traveled badly,
down into my chest, far and deep.
I wish that I had listened,
about wearing my coat,
to the New Years Ice Skating Contest,
at the North Pole.
The place was so pretty,
and the magic all real,
that I could not face the idea,
of covering up,
instead...
I swam with the penguins,
visiting from the south.
I talked to the mammoth bear,
from Alaska, and arm wrestled for an hour.
I swam in the punch,
lifted the whole reindeer gang,
up on the end of a candy cane,
spinning in the storm,
of snowflakes...
started by the windmill,
made from holly and grape vines of candy.
I will never forget
and neither will they.
We flew two states over in a jet,
skied from Mt Hood past the fence,
where they keep the ashes.
Gray still from a long time ago.
My cough did not gain
a grip on me, until the helicopter landed.
Then it was too late,
to put on my coat,
do the right thing
and go home early.
The best New Year,
sometimes starts with a rough patch,
but the rest is all garden parties and
politics from here.
Prayers
for
your
day,
the first day,
of the new year,
the last chance to say goodbye,
and try to be okay with tomorrow.
Remember failures at school in the week,
my special needs I was academically weak
over the weekend successful at sport,
my strength and my ability growing more,
You would take the prize feeling from me,
remind me that I achieve nothing at school, take the sense of achievement and show me, the things I failed so I notice them all
Aware of my struggles and punish my good game, you never actually helped me learn though just point it out complain, next week school ADHD I'm in trouble, get that belt out trousers down slap me punish PAIN, tell me it's my fault and question why I stay the same?
Never giving guidance, take my prize and violence, cook and clean and tell me your providing, the weekend come around again another sporting triumph and tell me sport doesn't matter in life, nothing, so I'm frightened, Bath Mini Rugby wasn't something to have pride in, failure on my mind then, the hypocrite takes me swimming everyday and i mean all the days because my swim coach thought I was amazing, I was as well but she would never tell or says me, selected by the county squad my god I did do well, never encouraged.. Oh no naughty at school here comes the belt and the words about the failure forcing me to soak it in and know to well, for a few years success progress and still the same at school, nothing changed the belt didn't work, one day she hit me with it and didn't even hurt, she'd toughened me up taught me nothing but my inability and what I can do is a non important thing, so those 4 sports where 4 sports with no worth no point and abandoned, and i was left with nothing left no chance to advance no plan done, believing I wouldn't achieve because after it all I never had won, wasn't I lucky to have mum
with the belt not an option the psychological abuse began as i went out into the world as a young man.... part two taught to be sad
He knows he acts like a dumbass
sometimes
An overzealous hopeless romantic
But this is a little much
Even for him
Luckily, he's got a partner in crime
this time
"You're totally gonna marry her, arentcha!?"
Yells Boomer, his Boston accent thick
punching the Lover in the knee
"Totally!" shouts the Lover. "You dick!"
punching Boomer back
They can barely hear each other
as the music system blasts out
a classic love song
They can barely understand each other
anyway
'Cause they are full on...
incoherently....
High
Like, for-real high
as kites in the sky
The Lover and his two buddies
Boomer and Omar
went out for a happy hour
Monday night, a dead town
Then went back to Boomer's apartment
Blazed up
Omar is "wearing a toe tag"
Passed out on the ground
They already drew on his face
with a Sharpie
His Lover comes back from vacation
tomorrow night
and he has never been so excited
to see anybody like now
He told Boomer that
which is why the crazy bastard cranked up
old love songs
Boomer's girlfriend is coming back in two days
Boomer is the only friend of the Lover
with a long-term girlfriend too
And they give each other cover
For being whipped
by significant others
They belt out another verse
"Yaaaahhh, Dude!" yells Boom
The Lover shouts back
"I AM going to totally marry my girl!"
Boomer's maniacal laugh
as he sparks up another J
Grabs his old-style stereo system's volume knob
Turns it ALL the way up
His eyes red like the devil
"YAAHHHHHH, DUDE!" Boomer bellows
"MEEE TOOO"
In gales of marijuana-induced laughter
An urge for a steak and cheese
or potato chips
or both...
...and a pizza
growing inside through the haze
The Lover realizes they both mean it
"YEEEEEEAAAAAHHHHH, DUDE!" he hollers back
and starts singing along again
at the top of his lungs
Man-made drugs
Induce an altered state
A psychedelic paradise
Of euphoria
A burst of colors
Impaired reality of dreams
A fix of blissful forgetfulness
Married to ecstasy
What need have I of these?
When I have you
My drug of choice
I will not touch any of the others
But you, I long to touch…
To feel you under my fingertips
To caress before I ingest
And let you posses...
Every way I can have you is good…
I inject
Inhale
Take you in orally
Taste you laced with everything
Under my tongue...
There…ah….there….it begins
I start getting high….
Climbing and climbing
My roller coaster rocketing high
On your words
On the scent of your emotions
On the presence of you in my mind
Who could ever find
A more wholesome or better stimulant...
Yes, you stimulate every part of me
You excite me
Make me delirious
Bring fire to my veins
Drive me insane
Make me oblivious to the pain
Leave me wanting more than the time before
Wanting a larger dose of you
More dangerous
More hallucinogenic
Unaware of my surroundings
I climax on this induced trip
You….my drug of choice
The drug from which
There is not even an iota
Of hope for rehabilitation….EVER...
Every cell to my very core is under your control
I want you coursing in my blood
Flooding my brain
FIX AFTER FIX AFTER FIX
More often…more intense…longer…stronger…
What drug can compare to you?
My ever present addiction…
Opiate of my obsession
Drug of my choice….
YOU!
Eileen Manassian Ghali
Was struck by a bolt of inspiration on this one! :)
Belt it out with Amy Winehouse…..”They wanted to take me to rehab, but I said ‘NO, NO, NO’.” ;) When I teach my students a rule or so in grammar, I say, for example, "Can you use a comma to join two independent clauses? Is it enough punctuation?" Then, in answer, I belt out with Amy..."NO, NO, NO!" They laugh!
Anti-intellectualism may breed anti-curiosity.
Harsh reality can frustrate existential sternness.
They tied backlash against "mere" curiosity.
Yet, every human behavior has a purpose.
Conveying a full breakdown of all the key sights.
Tangling, multiplying tendrils sepia from white.
My character has changed significantly already.
Rhododendron in blooming; existentialist edgy
The moon pendulum is at its most vulnerable.
Strong, direct sunlight makes vivacity visible.
Recognizing oneself in the gaze of the Other.
Transtemporal throws ages in a shadow cover.
Romance, paraphyllium, and aurora snow,
harvest moon, opaline luster, and coral glow.
Eurasian plant calyxes with spicate bloom.
Five stars in the sky; a red glow in the gloom.
Wake up, mystery, and join me on Mars.
Latte, belt out a song that heals my scars.
Opal in black, a ruby for the crown gem,
Is that thunder? You infer my heart hem.
Is this a dream, upon a shimmering silver sky?
Antsy flow, a phantasmagoria of my avow mind.
Chimes in Venice, a piercing stare into my eye,
as though we've always been close, my kind.
Sparkle up the universe and unveil thyself.
Moon wake, I'm steering my rise from a shelf.
Who were we if not to serve the whole world?
How do we fathom where we'll be stirred?
The darkness shrouded the vision of man.
Scattering flies at dawn since they had begun.
We face the share of the world with blackness.
Having to push and shove away the darkness.
1St Place Contest Winner
Written: December 18, 2022
This or That, Vol 15 Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Edward Ibeh
Your Favourite Rhyming Poem From
The Second Half Of 2022 Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Julia Ward
When cowboys sprawl 'round the camp fire after the days work is done,
They strum guitars and tootle harmonicas and sing to have fun.
Real cowboys don't sing Honky-Tonk or She Done Me Wrong stuff.
They leave that to rhinestone cowboys, considerin' it to be so much fluff!
Real wranglers sing about ropin' dogies and fixin' barbed wire fences,
Roundups, brandin' time and the magnificence of God's grand expanses.
They sing of home on the range, rodeos and dinin' on bacon and beans,
Cattle stampedes on stormy nights, the old corral and dance hall queens.
They harmonize about ghost riders in the sky who've met their fates,
Tumblin' tumbleweeds, cool water, tin cups and eatin' from tin plates.
They sing about bein' back in the saddle again and the streets of Laredo,
And belt out songs about horses named Old Paint, Ol' Dan and Tornado.
They yodel the cattle call and sing about when the bloom's on the sages,
And croon about their yellow rose of Texas and their pitiful wages.
Real buckaroos sing about Christmas in the bunk house and rye whiskey,
Cattle drives on the Lone Star and Abilene trails and a life so very risky.
They sing of the grumpy foreman and when the works all done this fall,
And tweedle about ragtime cowboy Joe and many a barroom brawl.
Real cowboys sing about ridin' the range, the chaparral and dusty trail,
And leave Hank Snow to warble about lost love, honky-tonks and landin' in jail!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
(c) 2014 All Rights Reserved
I must say that in my four score years I've done it all and seen it all,
But in the autumn of my life, noxious noises drive me up the wall!
I like the soothing sound of most music and birds trilling in the trees,
But, Lord, spare me the wheezing of those bagpipes, if you please!
I like the sound of thunder and the rain falling softly on my roof,
But I could strangle the neighbor for letting his mutt yap and woof!
I can tolerate classical music until the prima donna Madame Zaria,
Begins to belt out her raucous contralto in an intolerable aria!
A most trying nuisance and I suppose one of my biggest gripes,
Are kids with boom boxes and their jalopies with those roaring pipes!
I don't mind the occasional rumbling of a train or the screaming jets,
But when dining I suffer acid reflux hearing inane cell phone vignettes!
I've got a bone to pick with the inventor of the wailing saxaphone!
That and the squeaking of a clarinet are more than I can condone!
I like western musical harmony sung by "The Sons Of The Pioneers."
But spare me those "She Done Me Wrong Songs" - they aggravate my ears!
Why can't folks keep their cats inside so they aren't yowling on my lawn,
And a hex on the dude revving his Harley Davidson waking me at dawn!
I reckon before I blow a gasket or worse yet lose my poise,
I'd better rush out and buy some ear plugs to stifle that noxious noise!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
© All Rights Reserved