Long Bilbo Poems
Long Bilbo Poems. Below are the most popular long Bilbo by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Bilbo poems by poem length and keyword.
I Wanna End Me
It’s chill dawg. I’m just a savage. Gotta take that redpill homie. Two squared. Remember the illusion and have a giggle. No need to pout. It’s just a lil fun and games. Haha. Paint me like one of your Trojan horses. Why be sad that I’m returning home soon? Big bad voodoo daddy. Let me know. New Orleans. It’s likely that I’m a sociopath. But what would it matter? Chairs don’t sit, so why would I let the thought do so?
Mcguffins. Pilgrims. Plow rainbow serpentine. Turps. Wax on, doze off. I wanna kiss Billie Eilish. Her dead inside look matches my ensuite. Reckon she’d carry a lot of Bilbo baggage. As do thee unto mishaps. Perhaps. Hmm. Plausible. Ocean endeavours. Funny to think she’s younger than me. Origami. Murmur more peasant.
No board here. Rest easy mudblood. Whichever jumbo cup, always worth the diabeetus. Science, beach. Card master rates, deep down low. Don’t watch on acid. Reads palsy palms. Muster the leap of faith. Sow the famine field of bliss. Certified manga madness. Mango? Two for five dollars. Get like forty of em’. Fiddy bucks. Lez go. Who the hell are ya? I wanna know. Who do you think you are? Coming round here. Fancy pants.
Route 66 roadtwister? I don’t think so mister. Haha. Fly away. Debate the ways of the flying dutchman. Fly over yonder with thou stout in hand. Bound for the beasts riches in tires. Burnt rubber smells so good, not as good as keytamine. Tammy you little dinglebat. Rest easy little nymph. Driftking stands for doorokrats. Laundries. Coin? Denary. Tugboat the infestation. Retribution. Mortify. Grrrrr. That’s a growl. I don’t care. Zoo wee mumma. Throw that little Rat in a tub of acid. That’s nuts.
Stages in the “Art of Giving Up”
Suspenders
My ass won’t hold the pants up anymore
Turn Signals
Just leave ‘em on
I forgot where I was headed
Velcro closures
If you know why it’s already too late
Your “mobile” phone
Is no longer that mobile
Its ringtone
Bring on the Clowns
Stairways
Look like an optical illusion
Your birthday
No longer a celebration….
More of a destination
Your ZUMBA class
Sounds like a cricket discussion group
Your feet resemble those of Bilbo Baggins
“FUZZY SOCKS AND CROCS”
6/8/2021
Fuzzy socks and crocs Poetry Contest
That we love is unquestioned, not a point of controversy,
Our marital or partnership ring is personal and never mandatorily issued;
Youth lets us find it in order to keep and hand it on a generation,
As it symbolises our joy, contentment and exhilaration.
When we are lonely or selfish in our relationship with the other,
The ring on our finger inspires with platitudes which save,
From ourselves or society’s fashionable, glamorous glaze,
To treasure the person that we love, until we are for them brave.
When Bilbo embarked on the journey to retake his land,
He found a ring which he felt so personally attracted to,
And so kept it for the use, meaning and magic that did from it emanate,
‘Cos its semiology was his cosmology as its sign was life immaculate.
But when he approached his land, a dragon claimed it so,
Which made Bilbo consider his strategy and individuality,
And when he actioned the ring, strength was his reality:
He only had to think about or touch it, and so upheld it in supremacy.
Our symbol of the ring for love alludes to a greater ring,
A friendship ring to admire and like, and maybe to suggest and fight;
If someone’s land is his or hers, and is not, it means evil lurks,
So Bilbo invigorated love’s power to kill and vanquish this night.
Smaug the dragon held evil and torment in his breath,
Fiery and without request of light, gumption or relationship;
Bilbo even calls himself a bulgier of its world of hardship,
Slavery, murder and creatures of all-consuming darkness.
The physical ring only facilitates the person to aspire,
But in Bilbo’s time it was in danger of falling into the wrong hands,
So Bilbo allowed Smaug’s hell-pit to thus consume the golden circlet,
Such that all that was left was those who accept love’s commands.
That killed Smaug and the origin of sin and immorality,
‘Cos to posses the ring is not to necessarily to honour it,
So when Bilbo returned home from his adventure,
His life continued on in his nephew’s by his conjecture.
About Lord of the Rings and The Hobbit adventure.
With a golden nape, that area on the neck’s rear,
And a silent voice, excluding some chirps and stonks,
Speaking only to young, or between two or some in flight,
The golden eagle exudes those qualities that make humans right.
Flying maybe seventy-seven miles from their nest,
With wings up-turned in a V-shape for dynamics,
Which make a plane with the tail, aerodynamically set,
At a speed of one twenty mph without acoustics.
Open areas of nurturing native vegetation,
Make a home and life for development and tangle,
And mountainous rock regions find them hunting,
Bidding for rock pigeons and raven to mangle.
They devour creatures of the hair family fair and square,
And ground squirrels, grouse and pheasant they tare,
They’re not scared of deer, lamb, pigs or wild boar,
And sheep to them are a massively wide open door.
They have a dark brown body with feathers replaced annually,
Falconry is rife, and they get prestige from indigenous America,
Mentioned in the Torah, and the Old and New Testament fair,
Tolkien used it in an illustration to symbolise Bilbo Baggins air.
The Dodo, it’s curious
Lived down in Mauritius
A bit east of Madagascar,
You can’t get there with your car.
It’s an island, and it’s quite remote
But you wouldn’t need an overcoat
You won’t get there with your time machine
Unless your machine floats.
Right off the Indian continent,
If a Dodo was incontinent
What would he wear not to spill content?
Well, that just Depends…
‘Cuz how would they pull them up,
Or change them when they’re full up?
A question supposable
When they haven’t the opposable.
A question pretty clumsy
And I'm just all thumbsy
And it doesn't matter, 'cuz they're all extinct,
I just know that it stinks.
There’s one thing I’m sure I know
If I had a pet Dodo
I might call him Bilbo
But more likely it would be Frodo
And I’d have me a hobbit hole
For all of those Depends, you know
And that's where all the dirties go,
And I’d call it Bag End.
H/T to Terry Flood’s Do Dodos Do Doo Doos