Long Biro Poems
Long Biro Poems. Below are the most popular long Biro by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Biro poems by poem length and keyword.
Let's ponder last time Rego the ego was over yonder in the Iberico peninsula ..our hero was fonder of the wonder of Ronda but now does wander through the beauty & fruity booty that cutie Oporto does bestow… (in house joke...there is no radio embargo for this rhyming cargo so back to you in the studio)
Can't recall if we ever talked at all about how we virtually stalked Porto
A viral spiral as we did dream and scheme of moving there for a mo
Then balked too late deranged climate all changed mate too scorchio
Burned by the rage on the centre stage of a teenage tyro turned pyro
But what do you know ho ho ho…it's the Rego Ego in Oporto show
Jammy mutt strut out of any rut from Redditch hut far & away you yo yo
Smut of getting half cut a holiday foray glut such a sl*t.. a true pro or ho
But tut tut apropos bitter blow new shi**er low an at home sitter can't go
My career did park it… left the market now sign on for giro with my biro
Crow finances a foe.. so woe of ambassadors not in a row you flying solo
We should be tourers toe to toe explorers like Marco Polo with me in tow
As long as about assado not Fardo rather hear a song from Nelly Furtado
Naughtiness not haughtiness to and fro cheeky ebb & flow of going gung ho
Know your next photo will bring the frustration of a great crustacean crescendo
Gasping at the rasping sheen of a lean barbecued sardine no echo of Pinocchio
Ah grasping a calamari safari love the art deco but you can shove the prosecco
No braggadocio clasping fino or nerdy vinho verde or scarlet harlot starlet tinto
Hard for Euro aficionado as you scoff avocado & lardo tartlet from the mercado
Hope foody bingo is bravissimo dope & bellissimo though know is wrong lingo
So hey ho or nonny no bonny Rego in Porto is brassier than Portugeezer Luis Figo
Bigger teaser & pleaser classier than gusto & bravado of another dynamo Eusebio
Drinking sinking fort-ified wine quaff port like it's a sport holding court on the Douro
Envy piqued oh Rego never a fuddy duddy ruddy cheeked plucky bloody lucky so & so
Malimit kitang tinutukso kaibigan
Subalit madalas ka namang minamasdan.
Akala mo laang na wala kang halaga,
Kabaligtaran pagkat labis na mahal ka.
Oo,tinutukso ka sa’yong pagkatao,
Sinasaktan pa mula ilong hanggang puso.
Kahit man ika'y halos mapatay sa tukso,
Paumanhin pagkat lahat yaon ay biro.
Halimaw akong palagi kang sinasakal,
Yunuyurakan minsan iyong puri’t dangal.
Subalit hirang sampu niring kamalian,
Katut’hana’y labis-labis kitang mahal.
Totohanan ‘tong sigaw ko na “MAHAL KITA!”,
Oo, dinig ng Diyos tangi kong Prensesa
Katutuhanan sa likod ng politika,
Ang sa puso’y totoong itinatangi ka.
Note: this write depicts the atmosphere of students, about to do exam. The prepared and none prepared ones; how both of them feel in the exam hall.
Let words burst from brain
and quill dances on sheet
Let ink drools on paper
and cute words form
Let school wrecks her head
and paper fills with words
And none head gives hand
for it is her way to read
Let class knows best
when biro dances without halt
and paper sags of load
and shouts I'm load
and eyes grin in pride
saying thank God I read
And she determines her progress
with ease she says I shall pass
Let low knows her weight
when eyes twinkle as star
and mind fills with dust
and biro is chewing gum
and paper blank as space
then she knows I must study
all the best in the hall
for I wish you all to pass
I the chalice
Overflow with letters
Sylabuls similes vowels
Fusing them together
Written by the feather
A quill in the past
Now on a tablet
Notebook with biro
The words still flow
Poetry is my muse
I try not to confuse
The words written to help
Society from destruction
People self identify
Freedom to ask WHY ?
Words have no agenda
Font can be slender
together are powerful
written words from poets
Inner thoughts of life
Not just anguish and strife
Subjects on any matter
Similes on a platter
Pronouns are historic
The chalice overflows
words above does show
Keep writing makes a glow
Don't be telling me we need technology,
I understand it easy but it's not for me.
I own a PS3 and Grand Theft Auto,
one game disc that rotates with audio.
I don't buy MP3 I still purchase CD,
I like to look at the plastic collection on the shelve,
others take selfies, a plastification of themself.
I don't care for Facebook, use it as a poetry book,
I haven't signed up to Twitter
'cus I havent the time for celebrity litter,
to busy writing bits of rhymes into poems
to then show 'em as a Facebook status.
This electronic age is overrated and separates us,
like all are Spartacus apart
and using electrical sparks to much.
I spark a hunch and clump hunches together with pen,
I do it again and again,
using ink when I think so I link lines and mix sounds fine,
Iphone and Android cameras encourage steroid usage
and they clone how they prefer to think they look at this age,
but all have baggage, get old and all have saggage,
technology brings out the shallow and that's savage,
I photoshop with a biro and redo the negatives,
while their perspective is negative unless looks are perfected.
120,000 views on my poems,
no idea of how I look to them.
Don't tell me we need technology,
I understand it easy, I just prefer poetry
While downloading some music
a thought crossed my mind,
of things that I learned in the past
when playing old music in various formats
which, sadly, were not meant to last.
I learned concentration when using a biro
to untangle a music cassette,
and patience when searching my reel-to-reel
for a song whose place I would forget.
And keeping my hand steady,
breathing quite slowly, thus making my
body relaxed,
when lowering the stylus on my record player
to land at the start of a track.
So my patience, control and nimbleness of finger
I've held up to the present day,
while all the young 'uns who want everything now,
have missed out on these joys-
Just press 'Play'.
I visited the Doctor today,
For the result of my husband's tests.
I was concerned about him
And wished him all the best
I had brought some blank paper,
And a couple of biro pens,
Lately, I've been thinking,
I may never write again.
My muse is disappearing,
Waving me goodbye,
I understand this,
And here's the reason why.
I have abused my muse,
In many different ways
Often I don't listen,
And my muse slinks away.
He thinks I am too old,
To comprehend.
Also, senior citizens,
Drive muses around the bend,
My husband stood before me,
Smiling happily,
I looked down at my paper,
And shouted out with glee,
I don't remember writing this
I wonder who that can be!
on papers of divorce after decades of union
just a cheap biro not even a cherished fountain pen
no more tears no more drama and the well is dried up
a reservoir of joy and the agony of separation
consigned to memories and pain of suffering
acceptance of impermanence and closure of delusion
the hope of liberation and new beginnings is still nascent
but the fear of the future recedes into a new dawn
mutates into concern and care for what is and will be
curiosity flickers from scented candles and incense
her perfume is fading and the wedding band has come off
as the vows of togetherness remain a shadow of promise
there is a rainbow of spiritual prisms faith and longing
for growth change understanding and intimate love
some sort of anticipation while staying in the moment
and deep emotions cannot change with the blink of an eye
they will have to live together until the house has been sold
are both still deeply in love while God had other plans
they wish to remain friends with the only benefit
of not destroying what has been a miraculous journey
from start to now inevitable finish and dried ink will fade
Would my poetry improve if I used a posh pen
A fountain or quill, as was used back when
People took pride in all that they did
Not like these days, anything for a quid
Where are the inkwells that adorned a poets table
Imagine a quill pen with a white feather if you are able
The poet or writer looked in charge of the situation
As he dipped the quill into the ink with a flourish
And wrote words of inspiration
The ink flowed freely as the poet wrote words
Hardly ever heard of or used
Words that tugged at heartstrings
To take in, ponder and muse
A fountain pen came next without the romance of the quill
It was a status symbol some people collect them still
You did not dip the pen into an inkpot
Instead, you fill the pen with ink
Sometimes it got too full and made an ink-blot
Fountain pens are not used today only by a few
It was the Americans that invented something new
Biro is the name of this pen used by everyone
They are a dime a dozen and are sold by the ton
They are very practical and convenient to use
Therefore it's not the pen that makes poetry flow
It's the imagination of the muse