Long Blimey Poems
Long Blimey Poems. Below are the most popular long Blimey by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Blimey poems by poem length and keyword.
Looking up at the light
As i am now down in the drain
Being cosy and warm
Its not quite the same
I'm in a channel floating on my back
Something brown brushed me
" Yuchers " what was that!!
Its so dark i couldn't see
An uneaten sandwich
Och, now I'm hungry
It seems I've gone miles
In the darkness and smell
If it was not for the dream
Life would be real swell
Floating under houses
I've gone under streets
Brights eyes in the dark
Blimey, i hope we don't meet
Its seem like i've come to another end
I pity these spiders
Who are washed round the bend
Hey! up ahead i see dry land
I feel cunning now, have to think of a plan
I need to navigate, and use my nose
But down in these drains
Its suffered some blows
I reach the point where i climb the wall
With two little legs, I'm sure to fall
I laugh because they can't climb the bath
I'm struggling with, their basic path
Its grimy, slippy, smelly and sticky
This aroma of us, is very sickly
So to all you spiders, who are washed down the drain
I can understand, why life's never the same
Repost
I don't want to be starting any family wars
but hands up if you love your in-laws (long pause)
Be warned, yours could be around for 60 years
and be ten times worse than your worst fears
So I hope Groom you took care with selection
of those who'll do constant vivisection
and dissection of your most intimate habits
and who'll want you to get as busy as rabbits
Choosing your in-laws is more important than the bride
so I hope with the following rules you did abide
I'd go and hide if you've broken just one
You'll need a new alias and money to run
There are warning signals not to ignore
like them wanting keys to your back door
or the in-law who's a diabolical snare
offering you hand-me-down underwear
The underwear's been in the family for generations
It's been through trials and constipations
Good family relations will not stand a rejection
so run away now, or risk an infection
And watch out if when you court her
the girl always quotes what they've taught her
She's their daughter and you have no claim –
next they'll insist you take their family name
If your mother-in-law always overcooks
she's trying to destroy your wife's good looks
She doesn't want your hooks on her daughter so fair
so she'll make her unattractive with chocolate éclair
From what the groom's told me there's cause for concern
Every time he sees them they're strangely taciturn
It's when they're taciturn you've got to get away
because it's more important what they don't say
He said her Dad only grunts if he greets him at all
and talking to him is like talking to a brick wall
He's heading for a fall, like a sick matador
It's more serious than the keys to the back-a-door
It's not the folios they push on superannuation
or their career change 'recommendation'
It's not their consternation at his mountains of sin
Cor blimey it's worse, they want to move in!
~A Salute to Wind~
Ah, the wind in the trees!
Bends lovingly about to hug my knees.
And the whoosh of their leaves,
brings back multitudinous memories.
Of being sixteen on the back
of a hog,
And riding with a biker gang.
Clutching my boyfriend's strong back
so hard, I thought it might crack.
Or high winds in Chicago, their Arctic
winter, so fierce.
My daughter, just two, and oh so tiny!
Was nearly blown across icy Michigan
Avenue, blimey!
In those heavy downpours in San Francisco,
good Lord!
That not so kind wind contorted my giant
umbrella like a pretzel!
On hot summer nights, dear wind, is always
a loving delight.
Blowing the heat of the day away from
all of us.
Creating a wondrous, starry, cool California
night!
Ah, wind, with a mind of it own.
On that you can count!
I salute your freedom, bowing to no man and
cannot be bought.
Free to be fully you and going whence yoou
ought.
Without one judgemental thought!
August 21, 2019
The day began as most all do with my eye's watching and adoring you, the break of dawn,
first light of morn, today a beautiful new word was born 'Lupercalia'
The night before we had laid so tight, I'd proposed and now you'll be my wife, but on one
condition to which I must obey, find a new word for the world's united romance day.
The second month, the 6th week, there was a list of word's I could not speak, instead of
feeling slightly blue, I took on the challenge whilst I gazed at you
Eros must of laughed whilst drawing back his bow, to deal me such a challenging blow, but
I accept this quest with all my might, I'll make sure that you become my wife
Through the twilight's first shot of light, I felt a twinge of failing fright, what if
word's were not to come, not a new expression, I felt struck dumb
Come now think, this can't be hard, think what you'd write in her banned word card, to
omit the word that rhymes with hours, to give her in place something that rhymes with towers.
Isn't this just fine and dandy, I'm saying this instead of blimey! Nearly made a fatal
slip, least she never took the best word, kiss
My Dove, my life my special one, who stupid found for me when dove begun, accept these
hours, and sweet flavoured dandy, 6 weeks, 14th, say that you'll marry me, I dove you now
as from the start, I hope you understand what's in my cart, Lupercalia, happy Lupercalia
day, thank goodness this word too was not struck away.
Darling she said I dove you to, and I can't wait to carry you, I give to you my cart as
well, now when we speak of us no-one else can tell, the passion that we both deeply share,
for we'll always have Lupercalia there.
Inspection Time 2018!
Dum...dum...dum...dum...DUH -
anxiety shot thru stratosphere upon
good news notification aboot
a fortnight from this last
Friday of August tooth
house sand date teen,
rankling the body
electric sans this "FAKE" ole coot
which panic stricken state
(as iterated above),
where quiet listening affected
(with eyes shut wide)
Mozart's The Magic Flute
hearing such melodic notes
while lying sue
pine versus sitting
upon me comfort
ably numb glute
if attuned to said renown composer,
whose name familiar
'round the world wide web,
where his person posthumously
rings up substantial loot,
yet such rambling moot,
when priority must first
and foremost doth attend,
asper tidying up
apartment, cuz inspection
just around the bend
thus also a prayer would be
appreciated (by this atheist)
and/or juiced an email friend
e'en keeping limitation,
i.e. sharing trained,
unwavering, vaunted, wishing,
yearning for zesty gerund
forming relationship to
the maximum reciprocity,
thee world wide web doth lend
no...no...no...NOT focused
on anything greater,
than heartfelt succor, asper
tear riff hick
genuine fantastic Earthling
my darned cruel blimey
soc erratic angst to mend,
though married, tis
resplendent dear people
scattered far and wide
courtesy of the internet,
one can ride
upon the information
super highway with pride
minus prejudice and
trusty Google as guide,
perhaps...even fostering,
kickstarting, and ushering
online groom and/or bartered bride.
Blimey it’s hot
Though moan I must not
As to see the sun high up above
Evokes wonderful memories of summers gone by
Of weeks in the sunshine and temperatures high
With no sign of clouds in the stunning blue sky
From May to September, wearing summer attire
And not till November did Mum light our fire
Spending days on the beach building castles in the sand
Eating nice juicy peaches mixed with sand from our hands
There were days when we had too much sunshine
and Mum put us to bed, bathed in cool Calamine
Our scarlet red arms and our scarlet red legs
Made it painful to sleep as we took to our beds
And the sunshine brought out my freckles
Sun kisses, is what my Mum said
The sun she liked me and kissed me all over
From my toes right up to my head
Now moving towards my twilight years
The finale draws closer, but I have no fears
'cos inside my head I am young again
Reliving those wonderful carefree days
Though now looking back through my memories
they often appear in a rose tinted haze
As my time runs out I try to live
my life in every moment
Not wanting it to end just yet
I've requested a postponement
I enjoy each day
each hour
each minute
not from the outside
but from within it
So gratefully I will end my days
Recalling my memories
I assess and appraise
My next journey onwards
for me holds no fear
Finding peace from the sea
how I love living here...
Contest Brian's Choice 8
Sponsor Brian Strand
2nd PLACE
Methinks muss elf akin to a cold prickly...
being analogous to a
limp biscuit viz
wussy wonky willy,
yet back in the day
rolling in hay worm
may at large cavorted
frolicked, and idealized
as a warm fuzzy.
Though aforementioned title
slightly risqué and silly,
yours truly dwells in Schwenksville,
approximately an hour drive
northwest from Philly,
a geographic enclave flush with
seeds of life and White Lily
hometown of mine reminiscent
of Lake Woebegone
similarly verdant and hilly.
Today I bubble with gumption and glee
riding a crest of carefree euphoria prithee
within Netherlands home to Zuiderzee.
Now yours truly lets thoughts unspool
as they popup like mushrooms
after a soaking rain
and flash across consciousness
hoping to hammer somewhat
comprehensible poetic product
wrought courtesy tool
of me noggin
stream of consciousness school
meanders and follows no particular rule.
Despite being rescued
from blimey and bloody
ten thousand cannibals yippee,
where before escaping xi
shark infested cyber sea,
I nearly fell prey to piranhas we
dulling their way think valley
girls enlisting themselves
to be worshipped
as omnipotent trustee
trumpeting themselves
as shaykhah of chic re:
to do bidding of commoners
heavily guarding, ousting,
and thwarting stiff contenders
for commodification, commiseration,
commercialization, communication
and glory of riches q.e.d.,
quod erat demonstrandum
selling one soul to the devil
what a pity
exploitation, juxtaposition, opposition
temptation teasing proletariat offeree,
who seductively utter née
all the while vicarious thrilling
analogous to shady subterfuges
within dark wide web
bloodhounds (created courtesy
artificial intelligence) ripping asunder
supposedly airtight code,
while proficient hackers punching
virtual holes at Norton and McAfee
and other logistics wizards to protect data
laugh demonically, hysterically,
maniacally, sadistically, and zestfully
at those payees party as licensee
guardians of regal materialistic realm
do as I saith - speaketh bourgeoisie.
The world was going to end in nineteen fifty-nine,
according to my grandma. I know; she told me so.
Not because of Russia and its threats of nuclear war,
but because Italians had moved into the house next door.
"The street, the neighbourhood, will rapidly decline,"
That's not what my friends and I thought, though.
My mum was just as bad, "they've painted their door bright red.
Brown is the only colour for a rightly English door.
Just look at it," she moaned each time we walked the street.
"Some people just don't understand, the nerve, conceit!"
"And have you seen the clothes she wears?" "You wouldn't catch me dead."
But my friends and I; well, we all said; blimey, cor.
My dad took me aside one day; sat me down, and said,
"Take care, the folk next door are not like us at all.
They're Jews or Catholics; one or the other;" he confines.
"I saw them all out yesterday dressed right up to the nines,
walking with a bag of fruit and strange-shaped bread."
My friends and I didn't care; they had an ice cream stall.
We became good friends; me, and the boys next door.
We pricked our thumbs and pressed; became blood brothers.
I learned cool words; Bellissimo, Chao; and in Italian how to cuss.
And in return, I taught them English words like grotty, snot, and puss.
Grown-ups were wrong about Italians moving in next door.
When you make friends, there is no them or us, or others.
Jaundiced Eye Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Unseeking Seeker
Date wrote: 20-June-2021
Two grizzled master sergeants repaired to the NCO Club to cry in their beer.
Their jawing invariably turned to discussing the 'old army' of yesteryear.
They grew up in the 'brown shoe' army and of it they liked to reminisce.
'Twas 'happy hour', beer was cheap and their gripes went a lot like this:
"By gawd! Used to be I could take a kid behind the barracks and kick his ass!
Now, ever' time ya turn around they're buggin' ya fer a three-day pass!"
"Yep, they think they can git away with anything jesh 'cause they're a volunteer!
Ya won't believe what I shaw today! An earring danglin' from a soldier's ear!"
"We ate C-rations in our day without all them fanchy frills they have today.
Today, if a kid don't git schteak and lobster on hish plate there's 'ell to pay!"
"It wassh called a 'mesh hall' in the old army and we ate off'n schteel trays.
Now, it's a 'dinin'' facility' and, yesh, we schlept on cots in open bays!"
"Yesh. Things was so schimple when all we dealt with was mornin' reports.
I'm scared of them computin' things that is invadin' all the army forts!"
"In the old days I'd tell a kid what to do and he wouldn't give me no shass!
In the new army if I chew out mommy's boy he goes schlobberin' to the brass!"
"Now, they make us wear them silly lookin' berets jesh like them blimey Brits!"
"Yesh. I don't know about you but I schtink it's time I called it quits!"
"Yesh. I agree. I schtink it's time to retire and end this miserable career!"
"But jush a minute, old pal. Before happy hour ends lesh have 'nother beer!"
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
© All Rights Reserved
The Willful Wind
Ah, the wind in the trees!
Bends lovingly to hug my knees.
And the whoosh of their leaves,
brings back multitudinous memories.
Of being sixteen on the back
of a hog,
And riding with a biker gang.
Clutching my boyfriend's back
so hard,
I thought it might crack.
Or high winds in Chicago, in
winter, so fierce.
My daughter, just two, and oh
so tiny!
Was nearly blown across icy
Michigan Avenue. Blimey!
In those heavy downpours in
San Francisco...good Lord!
That not so kind wind contorted
my umbrella like a pretzel!
On hot summer nights, dear wind,
is always a loving delight.
Blowing the heat of the day away
from all of us.
Creating a wondrous, starry,
cool California night!
Ah, wind, with a mind of its own.
On that you can count!
I salute your freedom, bowing to
no man and cannot be bought.
Free of no one, and going
wherever you ought.
Without one judgemental thought!
December 22, 2019