Long Bootie Poems
Long Bootie Poems. Below are the most popular long Bootie by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Bootie poems by poem length and keyword.
Some are clearly Buddhist,
they sing not much, but drone
and chant, they do not flaunt.
Some are brightly painted egos,
their songs bootie-calls from empty nests
where they preen melodically rampant.
Others strain both throats and tongues
bend a tune to a roundelay
as nimbly as any yogic mystic.
A few are serenely drab
yet their songs are Catholic hymns
that soar saintly and sibilant.
Each species preaches
their own cyclical creed,
then propels melodramatic arias
to shake the air
or tweet, tremolo, warble, and twitter
their own sacred canticles.
Some tree cloistered avian
sing just as sweetly as any Sufi poem.
A noted wrecking-crew rabble-rouse
and mob, they declaim their rowdy rhythms
from a thumping zealot's craw and caw.
It is the musicality of their soul-songs
that we recognize,
all the feathered mantra's,
psalms and psalters
that are pumped from natures solar plexus
as chorales and airy orisons.
Then of course
there are the faithless calls
of blue jays, parrots, mockingbirds
and the honey easting Miner Birds
atheist all
yet they bring a rib-digging
jollity to the church of the sky.
All raise-up their voices.
A flocked congregation
chirping soft and loud
with a common lyricism
of body, spirit, and the votive holiness
of passing clouds.
WHATS UP WITH THAT
ALRIGHT, ALRIGHT
GIGG'Y WITH SUM ONE NEW
CAN'T TELL HIM NOTHING
AND SHE GOT STYLE TOO
GIGGY GOT A NEW THANG
AND SHOWING HER OUT
GIGGY'S GLIDING ON RED CARPETS
mRS. GIGGY'S AT THE HOUSE
OUT IN THE STREETS
WHAT YOU TALKING BOUT
GIGGY'S AND HIS NEW THANG
mRS. GIGGY'S AT THE HOUSE.
WHEN HE GET HOME
GIIGY AND NEM FUSSIN
CUSSING AND CARRING ON
THEY CUSSIN AND FUSSIN
GGGY GOT STRANGS
REEDS FOR GROOVIN
GIIGY'S WIFE
KNOWS HIS CARRIN ON
SOON GIGGY BE MOVIN
GIIGY, NEW WOMAN
GOT THICK THIGHS
AND PHAT BOOTIE
GIGGY TIRED ALL THE TIME
UPSET AND MOODY
GIGGY GET HOME
WIFE BE FUSSIN
UP ALLNIGHT FUSSIN AND CUSSIN
So your world ain’t gardenias, or lightning bolts or honey
So you ain’t making a difference, and you’re long out of money.
So your day is gloomy, overcast, and your outlook is not sunny.
Kick up those heels, show us your gams.
Throw away the absolute’s, become a ham.
Shake your bootie baby, shake your boots.
Release yourself, find your dance roots!
So your day is bad, and your boyfriend is a absolute heel.
Here is the scoop, woman, the utmost big deal.
Be yourself, don’t let others attitudes darken your wheel.
‘
Kick up those heels, show us your strength
Throw away the rules, who cares what others think?
Twirl and whirl as hard as you can away from that man.
Give yourself a break, enjoy your life as much as you can!
shaped like a boat,
a sock peeked out,
down under the rim.
a baby bootie,
a boot camp scootie,
befuddled the face,
bright red,
of a pale blond —
a mother on the side.
could have been undies
lining the sailor cap!
waterlogged laughter.
sea of despair.
however... i showed her up,
dereliction of my polished shoes.
barely an adult,
sneakering to hide
in the head,
luckily placed as a guest
in the gatehouse
and not out on my rear guard
or thrown in the brigg
for my lack of attention to detail.
the blond carries her family in a seabag
— not allowed —
can’t find the other sock.
9/3/2020
All In A Day Poetry Contest
Sponsor - William Kekaula
scootie means child that is between the stages of crawling and walking. Here I’m using it as a baby’s sock.
sneakering is a play on words as I had absentmindedly put on my sneakers
The mushroom head dance is in full swing today
With a hidey high high and a heydee hay hay!
Mushroom heads love dancing like bees love to buzz
We are jiggling and wiggling with a friendly fine fuzz.
Some are doing high kicks, I try to keep my feet in the air.
Some of the non-mushroom head people give me a stare.
I shake my bootie so hard, it nearly breaks a table in two.
My aunt Mable says “Child! What next will you do?”
I am shaking and quaking and giving a tiny roar.
I dance upside down and forward, and then out the door.
The rest of them are following me, and showing me up.
I care not at all, having no need for another dance winner cup.
A loathsome freezing quack seed walking upon a summer day
Was twisting her back and shaking her bootie in every kind of way
Along came a fluttering pack reed whose feet were made of clay.
He followed along at a distance, enjoying the sight of her sway.
What is that you are following his sister asked from her play.
They had just walked onto the property of their Uncle Willie B. Gay.
It is a loathsome freezing quack seed, he said, in a snotty way.
The quack seed heard him and quickly turned a brilliant ugly gray.
I am being followed by a fluttering pack reed, she told her Aunt May.
Auntie told her to stay on the phone, so she would be safe that day.
Both the quack seed and the pack reed fell into a swamp in the bay.
Disappearing together in a quagmire on the sweet little summer day.
Is a little bit of me, of him, the earth, and the air
It’s hurting deep inside, but never showing a care
It’s accepting life as it comes, whether just or unfair
It’s only consulting with the man upstairs
The Supreme seer that supplies my needs
And count my hairs
It’s accepting that I’m worth more than a fling on my back
It’s bringing forth life from clay and dirt
Suffering through pain and hurt
Labeled as Mother Earth docile and sweet
Yet, capable of full attack and bringing the heat
Androgyny is... Knowing when to bite my tongue
And making a stand for self
It knows when to love someone else and when to put them back on the shelf
Androgyny is… tasting the sweet fruits of success and accepting the ills of defeat
it’s being a lioness in the sheets
A conqueror in the streets
It’s bringing the wicked to their feet
Then switching it back to sexy and sweet
Androgyny never... Denies the desires of a physical man
But only implies there’s some of him in me and me in him
Sometimes more than he’ll ever understand
It’s realizing that he’s nothing without me and without him
Our existence breaks the chain
It’s accepting that mankind’s survival is the only reason why I got sex on the brain
Androgyny is... not about game playing, bed hopping, and bootie laying
It’s about structure, understanding, family, and praying
It’s about the fusion of man and woman that bring forth child
It’s about realizing that he and I share ribs
What’s his is mine and what’s mine is his
Full understanding is his job
But, when he denies me of that totality
He robs himself as well as God
All the elements of life in Big, little Ol’ me
But the who, what, and why completes the concept of Androgyny
Most women are strong, numerous and live long
This is my point
Only the strong survives
That’s why women truly run this joint
Cotton Bootie Enlistment
by Odin Roark
How innocent the booties of birth
If only their cast remembrance
Might remain but nostalgia
Instead
Their bronze symbolism
Merely encases a once simple smile
A semblance of purity
Lost ever so soon
History
Like a voracious virus
Infects this childlike innocence
Creates its own immunity
Thrusting virulent audacity
Minimizing one’s virtuous cotton footwear
Naively seeking only durability
A faux synthetic
Or tanned leather
Yet
The species remains bent to create
The next test-tube imperviousness
Minimizing rugged soles of
Arabian oil based rubber
But yesterday’s chapter
High tech miracles
Deliver
Gripping
Climbing
Running
Advancing
Attacking
Conquering
Foot cover impervious
Yet never forgetting such simple beginnings
Ultimately
The acrid smoke
Merging into our heated global atmosphere
Further heats subjugation's resolve
Only the last chapter of earth’s historical tome remains
Postlude
The vortex of history’s repeated resting places
Where roadside bombs facilitate
Body bags of findable parts
Where calloused bare feet of refugees fleeing
Know only purity never lost
Even Salvation Army’s handout footwear
Good for the tucked fetal position
Beneath homeless cardboard shelters
Remembers the booties of birth
Somewhere along the line
Leaden boots seemingly rendering freedom
Remain beholden to the heel and toe of control
Where dominance patiently waits
Try as we may
Weighty footprints
Foretell the future
From birth to death
Their ponderous reality
Remains often guised
But forever remaining
The ever threatening
Leaden boots of tomorrow’s
Cotton bootie enlistment
I am a man who breathes
A man who believes
In the whispering of trees
And in the buzzing of bees
Sailing across these oceans seas
The wind in the words to receive
As I listen to the breeze
This is what I perceive
The light itself
It exist within its self
Sitting upon a book shelf
These words sting to health
The cry for land and its wealth
Look what you’ve done to yourself
Look what we’ve done to our self
Living, I explain myself
Even though it may sound quite looney
As I look up at the full moony
The hooting of an owl does do sound groovy
Staring at this ruby
A magnificent treasure not just a bootie
Yea, she has such a nice round smoothie
Dare I even to say, that indeed it is magnificently beautiful cutie
Darling be my Lucy
Pirates were known for their notorious acts of
This or that.
I learned while traveling the seas
That they were A mean frat
With an endless rum vat
Which got them in to all kinds of troubles on their
Journeys.
Pirates were known for their notorious acts of
This or that
The worst one was a tit for a tat
On whoever was the appointee
In the government at the time got the full
Attention of the frat.
Usually it was some fat bureaucrat
Who was trying to do something on the QT.
Pirates were known for their notorious acts of
This or that
Yet, Once in a while they would slip up and expose
A government rat
Who got their large chest of bootie
Which the frat
Lost out on. Drat!
So much for being good time to sail
Off in to the sunset on to their next spree.
Pirates were known for their notorious acts of
This or that
They were a mean frat.