Long Buff Poems
Long Buff Poems. Below are the most popular long Buff by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Buff poems by poem length and keyword.
It's time to store another memory
and wish your summer getaway goodbye.
Buff that thought with your finest emery,
and expose each detail etched in the sky.
An old canoe, now half full of water,
is loosely tethered with a bright green rope.
An ancient relic you bought your daughter
in her teens when she was all smiles and hope.
The sunsets are magical to behold
as day and night relinquish their embrace.
And the lake, a mirror of liquid gold,
enamored by Sol's light, reflects His face.
It's time to bid your paradise adieu,
and yet, you take those memories with you.
First off let's make it clear I ain't funny
And I don't start conversations out with bonjour
But there comes a time in every mans life
Where he needs a good Man-icure
When you hit the age of me on the same feet
It's time to give the old dogs a break
Empty out your calendar this will take all day for sure
And you don't want distractions in the way
Cause when the hair on your toes could keep an Eskimo clothed
And carpet his whole family's igloo
That's when you know it's time to call up your Bro's
And go visit a Asian or two
A pedicure for a man to remove the toe jam
Like they would weapons of mass destruction
But let's not call it a date cause that just sounds gay
Let's say outing or a manly luncheon
Like a kid in a candy store given chocolate galore
With no earthly thoughts of calories
Signed up for the 5 gold star plan soon to be a new man
Where you're bound to not recognize me
From hot wax to cream to all things in between
Why they even buffed my buff
From bottom to top they did the whole lot
And yes I liked it...thank you very much
As we went through the day the new me being made
Rolling me from dock to dock
Then came to the time we stopped short of a dime
When they wanted to give me a bikini WHAT?!?
That's where I drew the line there's just some things I find
That a Manly Man would never stand
We went back to the front, that's enough of this lunch!
THAT gold star wasn't in my plan
Would I do it again? All you gotta do is say when...
But next time round believe me
When it comes to the stars I'll stop at the 4
Which I believe is boxer instead of bikini
They called the "Buff Boy" to clear my table.
He winked, said I'm ready, willing, and able!
I was eating kumquats after a couple squats,
And ran screaming back home to my wife Mable!
The following week, I was doing some curls,
On the Thigh Master, was some pretty girls.
Their nostrils flaring, cuz they caught me staring,
I must have looked like a swine casting pearls.
After that, those long walks to the gym were over!
Get a new hobby, Mable said, ambition drove her.
Wasn't no conductor, so became an instructor,
Now, I own that damn gym, walking in tall clover!
In the junkyard of life
What do you see?
What do your eyes focus on?
Do you see the rusted forgotten?
Do you feel the presence of greatness?
Or all you recognize is the trash and weeds blowing about the ground
In life there are many relics
Glimpses of the past; present now
Are you willing to buff and clean to find its potential or do you ignore it's beauty?
Can you look past the decay?
To bring it back again with touches of love and grace
Every junkyard hides a treasure
Something forgotten, Something lost, Something discarded
But to look beyond can be the greatest sensation, the greatest belief
Reaching beyond the obvious
Seeking a different kind of richness
Can turn up the ultimate vision, the ultimate recognition, the ultimate declaration
I am here waiting to be discovered in your own junkyard of dreams.
soft yellow
streaked
terra cotta
shadowing
speckled sallow saffron
a bluish buff
upon the cochineal
brilliant
boneblack
grizzled
&
engrain
a
citrine carnation
as
fallow flaxen
rustic rubrical
rainbow tint
the magenta
mandarine
unseen
an ultra-marine
tinged burnt
sienna
reflects
a golden flame
raw
upon
umbery
an
earth green
a
bright mosaic
gold mottled
&sallow sorrel
in
virent yellow
once
oak stained
the pale apricot;
becomes
blood red
russet dotted
the olive lind
a
freckled crimson
whilst
a chestnut maroon
on fuchsias
faded
an
apple green
as burnt umber
sank deep
into
sanguine slumber.
I sit at the end of the wooden pier near the river's edge,
my feet splashing the blue mirrored hedge
watching the swirls on the depthless water.
In my hand a wild spray of dandelions, tiger lilies, bearberries
and parchment. Cool current veers unhindered away from the ledge
by nature's land; behind the trees where elves, pixies, and fairies
dwell upon green blade of the herbal sweet sedge.
Dip in freckle orange tiger lily crinkle hats and veg
flitting around from tree to tree, peer beautiful sensual pixies.
In the calm melody of dance all trim in fluff and buff fairies
in their yellow dandelion bellow skirts and soft chicks fledge.
The old Elf poet sings and reaches for parchment and ink bearberry bushes.
In and out the bees, butterflies, and hummingbird flutter
to savor the nectar from the chalice of fragrance of flowers.
The brilliant sunshine finds its way behind the trees and shudders.
Sleepy, I rose and walked home to the river's edge.
5/15/2018
BOING..?!#! Its off at boeing..' the wheels and doors have
Gone..planes just; over-drive the runways, they're rivalling
Sann-yong..They're rolling in inclusions, like its for a dare!!
People choosing flights right now, for boeing they don't care.' Thery're checking in their millions, about which plane
To take..(Have they got woke on boeing?) Wow!! the realtime
Take-off joke..Its murder in the car park..' cause people
Just can't leave.' They're waiting for a different plane its
Stuff you'd scarce beleive.' Well if you knew the 70's? when
Boeing was a brand!! When quality was valued when jobs
Were fully manned.' When woke meant being lively, alert
Right on the job..' Now its eyliner at the ready where them
And they, arn't just words..Yet reflect as jokes, the pokes
Are seldom noticed, and whether pigs reside within their
Hallowed coverings.' Who really can decide.? Decide..? Is
Just the term no doubt.' Around the boeing joints, its
Forget about the riveting.' What nail varnish? is more on point'
Do you buff nails after coffee? Or before.? Which task is next ?
Is it adjusting window seating, or arranging jims hair-net.?
Are the women really 'manning up?' Or is that term all wrong?
If you get assigned to Australia, you should check with
'Penny Wong.' Another thing you'll find at boeing' detail is not
The thing.! John Burnet went into details.' We wanted quiet yet
He would sing.!! He shouted about 'forbidden stuff ' like safety
And ethics and work??? We knew his kind, they insist on fine.'
Yet the weathers foul, well for him it was to be.' The jerk..An unworthy
Man. ! He'd had a mortgage; and' a regular wife and familiy!! he
Even said he enjoyed life.' He didn't pill pop devoid of vice.?
Well now he's dead, suicide its said..' And thats the truth you see!!
Just like flo is fred.' or june is wed to a lamp post.) at boeing
all is as it should be.!
How about when stores jack up their prices
Then reduce them and call it a sale
I've been on to these devious practices for years
Their attempt to bamboozle us has failed
Annoying commercials that treat us like morons
As if we're gonna fall for that stuff
Like if you brush with mint flavoured toothpaste
Your sweetie will greet you in the buff
How about optometrists with really bad breath
As they lean over to adjust that eye thing
More than once I nearly passed out in the chair
Need a sign on the door with a warning
Or when you're at a game with the whole family
And a guy gets drunk and obnoxious
Using every cuss word ever known to mankind
You wish you could muzzle this ignoramus
You pay scads of dough for a vacation down south
And it rains every day of your stay
Your condo smells like the back end of a donkey
A most forgettable vacation I'd say
Well I'm sure most people can relate to these
You probably have a bunch of your own
Should be a service called Pet Peeves Anonymous
Or a help line you could contact by phone
Lake Wollumboola is intermittent.
A coastal dune lagoon, enclosed by berm of sand.
Its basin a drowned creek-scoured depression.
This tiny lake is perched above high tide, vulnerable.
Its survival lies at the whim
of wind-blown and sea-thrown sand.
It's long term fate short-lived as its filling up
with sediment, weed, detritus and muck.
This little lagoon among the dunes
is mecca for migratory birds.
The curlew and buff-breasted sandpiper,
The long-toed stint, pied oyster catcher and little tern.
These vulnerable birds depend on the vulnerable lake.
They arrive on-cue from long-hall flights.
Alight and feeds in the shallows.
Mate, breed and lay eggs in vulnerable places
on the open beach and shore.
They squat on eggs and fledge their young,
and when the time comes, migrate back
with young yearling in tow,
to whence they came.
They book return migratory flights to
Lake Wollumboola each year,
hoping it survives vulnerable
for another year,
and hoping its time is not yet up.
My partner’s parents came to stay
They’re messing with my head
They only turned up yesterday
So we gave up our bed
But last night I’d been drinking
Until late into the night
I went to bed right off my head
But still left off the light
I snuggled up real close
And then I found myself in trouble
I gave my love a tender kiss
But what I felt was stubble
I leapt up and made for the door
Could not leave fast enough
Forgot my clothes were on the floor
And I was in the buff
Next morning things felt awkward
Frankly, not a lot was said
I had to tell my partner
I forgot we’d lent our bed
My partner quipped good job you’re quick
And wasn’t there for hours
I asked her aren’t you worried
That your dad’s just bought me flowers