Long Boil Poems
Long Boil Poems. Below are the most popular long Boil by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Boil poems by poem length and keyword.
If I win, I will put my bikini in my bin, I will go for to romp promptly.
If I fly to my gritty city, I will fry, but I will not cry.
If I win, I will cling to my kitty
I will bring my roll on, or I will pong.
I took it not to prolong my pong.
I will try it on; I knit for my Witty Kitty,
Kitty I will not cry, for you I will try,
To buy you promptly, but not too quick
I will not buy you fowl nor cock to boil,
Look for you Kitty, bonito, no colic.
You will fill your cocky colon, my bionic witty Kitty.
Bonito, not wing of cock, I will bring from my city.
I try for you, my own witty Kit.
I try to work on your colon, now you know it.
I try not to prolong your locomotion you know
Not in circumlocution I go.
To zip it up now I put it into motion.
My Kitty, My bikini, I will put in my bin.
Dear Heart,
You are the great fulcrum of the human machine
So integral to keep us alive and leave us healthy
I know you work incessantly day and night
Neither taking rest nor seeking respite
By defiance, on any day, if you go on strike
Alas! All our body functions will come to a halt
Though a sinewy piece not bigger than a man’s closed fist
You are the seat of umpteen thoughts and emotions
A wondrous magic casket holding love and hate
A pouch that can contain so much of treasure
A sponge that can absorb any amount of pain
A hidden cave to stash away so many secrets
So deep and vast as a fathomless sea
You are so full of spiraling eddies and currents
Who can fathom your horrendous depths?
Who can explore your hidden recesses and crevices?
At times you stay still like a placid lake
Silent and unperturbed without even a ripple
At times boil and spill with emotions and feelings
Pounding like lashing waves of a stupendous sea
Sometimes like a swift bird in flight
You take off on wings to alarming heights
Or like a gambler’s horse on the race track
You keep galloping in lightning speed
Sometimes you are hard and resistant as a rock
But don’t be insensitive and unfeeling as a clump of wood
That’s my only prayer to you, my bosom friend
Store as much love as you can and lavish it as a millionaire
Do you know how much I love and value you
I feel there is nothing greater vouchsafed to man
Than the gift of an ever loving palpable heart
I relish you and wish to hug and caress you dear!
Much Love,
Jan.30.2023
~ Placed Nineth~
Dear Heart Poetry Contest
Sponsor- Mystic Rose Rose
I am going swimming I told the man.
Don’t go to Dominica, he said.
You’ll boil up as if you are in a pan.
I thought he was nuts, but I read up.
They do have a boiling lake.
So I turned over my cup.
The coffee dripped onto the world map and then
I had an inkling to swim in Texas or Ak-Sar-Ben
Jacob’s well sounded great with its underground cave,
But my auntie told me it had been a recent grave.
Apparently many die down there
When they get intrigued and forget to come up for air.
The coffee had slithered across the map pretty good.
What about the Nile? I asked. Fun for sure, if I could.
Crocodiles will kill you, but go anyway, said brother Lee.
He has always wanted my bedroom, you see.
The Amazon? I queried, looking at their smug, eager faces.
Piranhas and barracudas, my dad was grinning with braces.
Don’t go to the blue lagoon, said my sister Petonia.
The alkalinity rate makes it as caustic as ammonia.
Gulf of Thailand? I asked, watching the coffee seep.
Sure if you want a box jelly fish to stab you deep.
Their sting is so horrible you die of shock.
I decided to swim locally then. I am now standing at the dock.
Staring at the water, wondering about sharks and such.
My feet cringe as I tap them on the top, barely a touch.
I envision an alligator swishing my body away to eat.
I go home, run the faucet, and soak in glorious heat.
Cooking comes very naturally to me
Why I can boil water and even pour tea
Ask me to toss salad and, whoosh--one, two, three
Your basic veggies, topped with beer nuts and provolone cheeze*
Now heating up a hotdog is right up my alley
or two-day-old leftovers; I don't dilly-dally
Sometimes, I confess, I might burn the toast
but I've never ever forgotten to unfreeze the roast**
I know you're in awe of what I've told you so far
Sweet Baby James Taylor's immortalized it on guitar***
So I'll leave you with this incredible, amazing feat:
On our honeymoon, I prepared the very first meal in our Motel 6 suite
~Canned tuna, swimming in mayonnaise, on white bread -- What a treat!
__________________________________________________________
Chef's tips:
*The aged kind, that really smells
**Well, ok, I did forget this one time...golly, gee
***Not really. Ha, ha: Just pulling your leg
July 22, 2019
Cornucopia Cooking Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Chantelle Anne Cooke
Aspen, ponderosa pine, blue spruce
pink glacier-cut rock, scree, ravens
gray jay, peregrine falcon, hawk.
We climb to 11,000 feet in three days,
camp at Lawn Lake for three days. Alpine
tundra. Elk, bighorn sheep, marmot.
Tileston Meadows, ticks in grass,
rock face of Mummy Mountain.
Binoculars show pink cracks in gray rock.
Stoke gas stoves, play cards.
Boil water, set up tarps, lay out
sleeping bags, hang bear bag.
Watch crescent moon slice into
Fairchild Mountain. Moonlight
makes a mosque of the rocks.
Yellow aspen splash in dark green
spruce and pine. Gullies where streams
slash during spring snowmelt.
One rock, feather or flower worth
more than money. Need no wallet,
keys. Just clothes for fur.
All day climb toward saddle to see
what's on other side. One hawk floating
among bare peaks and over valleys.
Wind at 13,000 feet
turns to sleet. Turn back from peak,
take boulders two at a time down.
Winter moves into mountains.
Then we fly from Denver to New York
where it's still summer.
As our patience wears thin
We encounter the Moment
Where our frustrations
Boil to the surface
That deep part of us
We choose not to reveal
Even to ourselves
Is the legend of nightmares
For what awaits us
When this dimension surfaces
Are bits and pieces of knowledge about who we are
That are too painful to see in the clear light of day
Better to be afflicted
With all manner of ache and pain
Than to see
A part of which we really are
This denial
Has an expiration date for all
Yet most wish to stay in denial
And passively wait for that date to transpire
Rather than actively confront truth
If only we could believe
Really believe
That by confronting and exposing these
Inner dimensions of ourselves
We are actually addressing the nightmare
Changing who we are
And eliminating that expiration date
From having any real meaning
In this life on earth with it's burdens
each and every day so much toil
it all seems to have no point at all
within your emotions your blood will boil
But the master creator has a plan
in his eternal mind before time began
He would create a people for himself
in them a purpose for the good of man
This God who is eternal in all things
who knows everything and everyone
his will is sovereignly free and good
he alone will accomplish it to be done
For this Lord our God is in his heaven
preparing a place for his very own
which is filled with awesome beauty
this knowledge his holy word has shown
So think of this eternal glory
when this earth tries to bring you down
there is a blessed life to come
created by the one wearing the crown
This heaven will fill you with joy
a joy spiritually in all it's fullness
you'll be aglow to know true salvation
giving yourself an eternal completeness
T'is the time of year when things do go bump in the night
a time when witches come back to life ready to snatch a child
to boil up in their evil cauldron that walks and even can talk
oh the vile stories it could tell of potions made from their flesh
A time when the dead rise up and for a few hours rule the world
Stay inside if you wish to be safe, don't venture out if you are wise
pumpkins with evil grins spring to life searching for the unwary
giant blood sucking bats fly through the thick air on silent wings
Cap all this with wicked wizards and spotted poisonous toads
scarecrows gleefully join in the mayhem of this most foul of nights
don't venture out if you care for your soul for it will be snatched
and will leave you rotting in an eternal Halloween for all your days
written 08/29/2013
contest Halloween sponsor Gail
In the beginning
Beak stirring
Human forms into being
Raven said
To the cauldron
“They are ready.”
People crawled out
Hot and wet.
One by one
The heroes
The sages
And women
Came out first.
They were the strongest.
Raven unfurled
Shook his black-on-purple feathers
And went to sleep.
But in the cold cauldron
Remained
Many more beings.
They looked like people
They talked like people
They copulated like people
They ate like people
But they did not sing
Or dance.
They never rejoiced.
They were all so cold and angry
…dangerous.
Raven awoke
And intending to kill
These lesser beings
He pecked and swallowed
Pecked and swallowed
As many as he could.
But most of them
Got away.
Raven is long gone
And so is Chaos Cauldron
But today
These lesser beings,
Colder and angrier still,
Get to elect presidents
And become
Leaders.
They torture the heroes.
They mock the sages.
They violate women.
The grandfathers said:
“Raven will come back
One day
And boil the whole of humanity
Into another soup.”
When was John closest to Jesus?
Was it as he leaned his head onto His chest,
to hear a beating heart - O what heart!
But was it then or when the Man transfigured,
white as snow, with His companions?
Was the light bright beyond comprehension?
When was John closest to Jesus? When
the rock was kicked away; when Jesus
gave them food and drink?
Or was it in His old age? This old man
seeing visions…terrifying visions.
He was on the island of Patmos. Legend
says they tried to boil him. Perhaps, he saw
another with him?
When was John closest to the living God?
Perhaps, each manifestation of Christ
brought him closer to The Truth!
I’d say, he was closest when he opened his eyes,
when he stood in heaven’s bounty, when he heard,
“Well done, my friend, and now you rest.”