Long Bump Poems
Long Bump Poems. Below are the most popular long Bump by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Bump poems by poem length and keyword.
I am a monster
A tormented work of God’s hand
I will roll over you
Like a storm
Because that I am
My energy will attract you like a swarm of bees in spring
Into your lover’s bed
Where I will remove tranquility
From you mind
Before you reject me
I am a Tesla
Coiled
My fingers set to spark
They will suck the life out of your longing
You will desire to burn again in my hell
But you will remove me
And keep me at bay
For I am too strong in field
To leave close to your heart
Yet I will possess you
Not because I own you
Only will I own your desire
To wrap around my tongue again
And from inside your womb
You will grow a hand longing to pull me into your core
Yet I will unwillingly shake your bed
While you try to sleep
Because I cannot stop
Even when I rest
A storm I am
Cursed am I
With a double vortex of pain
That rips at my muscles
And makes them twitch
When I want them to relax
There is lightening inside of me
That longs to be kissed into a deeper slumber
Just once, so that I can rest in bliss at your side
Will you do that for me, just once?
Or throw me away before the first dawn, as is my fate
My tormented soul
Wants the electrocutioner’s pulse
To leave me alone
And let my limbs recline
For just one night
But instead I must sleep awake
So I do not unleash
Another crushing wave
Against your brain
As my twitching arms attack you despite my love
For while a storm may intrigue you to watch
You will not ride long in the funnel of this tornado
I will become your toy
And discarded after a few shocks of my constant sparking
Have burned your precious fingertips into charcoal
My place will become as your sworn servant
When you require another grinding
And remember the reason your millstones have worn thin
Desiring another load
To render into stardust
And while I just wish to rest my weary head
Upon your swollen breasts of honey
While you sleep against me in pleasure’s afterglow
The storm that never sleeps will jar you awake
And your pointed finger will show me out the dog’s door
Creep that I am
Requires his mask to be kissed away, but it will not yield
No one can endure
A lasting embrace
Because I will bump your arms away in the night
You should be warned
As upon notice be you now informed
My tic ticking heart
Will demand its daily toll
Sending me to sleep alone
ENOUGH!
I felt deaf from the ‘noise’ of information,
constantly butting, buzzing against my mantra of:
“The quieter you are… the more you… hear!”
At present, my lifestyle felt media manipulated:
tv, radio, newspaper, mobile, computer.. ad infinitum!
Besieged by endless emails, monopolizing mobiles,
beset by frenzied yaps from apps!
Enough is enough is….. ENOUGH,
I have to escape from the unrelenting hullabaloo.
Can the human brain endure so much information
and who am I, an individual thinker or group dancer?
However, relief sat just around the corner
as next morning I boarded the flight to Reykjavik.
A three-hour taxi journey with a taciturn islander,
people and communication diminishing by the mile
until finally a twig of a boat out to Ellidaey Island.
Boating and bobbing towards the uninhabited …hideaway,
an isolated jigsaw piece of land
off the southern coast of Iceland,
I appraise a small-boned building clinging to its side
with ‘RIDICULOUS’ scribbled all over it.
Someone had said Iceland was a niceland
where you could float free, peace and tranquillity!
But someone hadn’t warned me about…Mr Loneliness
Who was soon tapping me sharply on the shoulder.
So here I sit, three days into my week’s stay
in the island’s lodge, dubbed the world’s loneliest house,
where the only neighbours are passing ships and puffing puffins.
No internet, no tv, no electricity, no running nor strolling.. water
just remote, alone and contemplating my countenance
while wondering if God is lonely too!
Suddenly, clouds bump and bruise against each other
as they race away before the darkness snarls in.
Soon, night has sent in its stormtroopers
who land and splinter into shadow groups
while wind angrily sprints up to the house
bombing it with blockbuster punches.
Then rain happily joins in, machine-gunning the house
until the building begins to stagger and stumble.
I check my face and it is still in the same place
but I sit timorously trembling, tyrannised and terrified
while my eyes follow the house’s dimly lit path
as it wags its tail to the cliff’s edge
and jumps into the void of darkness.
But this poem is a broken wrist, with a twist,
as suddenly, my bones brittle and inside myself…..I faint!
What possibly could happen now?
But there it is..
the knock at the front door!
Ian Souter
If it was not for¡¦
Beyonce Irreplaceable, I would not have put his bags out and told him he must
not know about me! Because if it was not¡¯t for Destiny¡¯s Child, I would not be
asking him was She the reason he start acting funny
He was telling me I was tripping and like Gucci Gucci I told him B.... I Might Be¡¦
Therefore, like Keyshia Cole I had to Let Him Go!
Every since I let him go¡¦like my inspiration You Couldn¡¯t Tell Me Nothing and I
was hitting the clubs Bottle Poppin¡¦Sh!t I was Remy Ma cuz I was FRESH 2
Death¡¦
Therefore, for him and my haters I told yal I was gon 2 bump like this¡¦
If you ever felt like this in the words of my Idol Keyshia, I¡¯m Just Like YOU¡¦.
Part 2
I am so glad that I found my Angel listening to Bobby V¡¦. I felt like Lil Wayne when
you told me I can be you judge¡¦So Nasty wit it!
Sometimes I feel like Alicia, I wish that we could be together more to cherish our
time and you can hug me as if You will never see me again...
In the words of Mary J, we will be Just fine, because you taught me you are just
like Mario and you are Crying out for me while listening to my heart
I am so glad that you CC all those other girls around town and You choose me 3
stacks¡¦.
So now, we can make love in the Mirror like Neyo¡¦If anything goes wrong we can
Make it like is was like Pretty Ricky.
In the end like Avant and Keke theirs nothing in the world I would not do for you
boy¡¦Good thing I listened to Lloyd and opened up my eyes and seen that you are
they One for me. Therefore, I am going to take Ciara¡¯s advice and Promise that
I will never ever hurt you¡¦because you are My Boo.
So I will flash my Promise Ring everywhere I go¡¦Damn I HATE THAT I LOVE YOU!
Part 3
Can you really Put it Down like T-Pain, and get it Poppin with our Nasty Grind¡¦
Just Say It! You are Addicted to Sex like Neyo¡¦
Just because you are such a Seduction¡¦.I Can¡¯t Leave you Alone¡¦
Like Plies I am happy to be yo Shawty¡¦even tho you told me once you put it down
I was gone be stuck¡¦
I am Sorry, so therefore you can put the Blame On Me...
As, Pretty Ricky would say I want you to Stay a little bit longer
Because I am going to Suffocate without you¡¦cuz, you know exactly How I like it
So go back and tell yo friends that you chick said hello cuz I know THEY KNOW¡¦.
¢¾ Mz.Liscious
12/18/2007
Form:
Found the G.E.C.K and a genius super mutant named Fawkes
It's the lone wanderer, were their truly any doubts
On his way back, the enclave stun him cold
It's the lone wanderer, they must truly be bold
He wakes up to the face of the man that murdered his father and his dream
The lone wanders promises to severe the head from this fiend
They made a mistake and set him free
He lets off some steam and goes on a killing spree
Hoping to find the fiend, instead he finds a computer
It claimed to be president Eden, the leader of the future
The lone wanderer couldn't believe the stupidity
It gave him the F.E.V virus and claimed it was the best for humanity
The lone wanderer then remembers he found a self-destruct code
He told president Eden he was a whole
Laughing while he activates It's self-destruct mode
Running and gunning to his P.I.P boy radio
Listening to 'Boogie Woogie Bugle Boy' to fit the scenario
Turning Enclave soldiers into mashed potatoes
By the time he escaped the count down hit zero,
The lone wanderer stood in the background looking like a hero
Reunited with the genius super mutant Fawkes
They now have matching toys to take back to the house
Deciding to stick together for a noble cause,
They return to the Citadel after unloading a few hundred shots
The Brother Hood Of Steel commended them and gave them a round of applause
Time now to suit up and release a giant robot
'Now we take back the purifier!', Cried Sarah Lyons
'Take everything you can because only Enclave shall be dying'
The lone wanderer refuses their power armor and instead pulls out his Gatling gun
Him and Fawkes bump guns and are already for some fun
They rush through the gate behind the giant robot shooting a vertibird out of the sky
Running through the carnage seeing Talon mercs pass by
Barging through the front door of Jefferson's memorial
Spraying Enclave soldiers in a effortless tutorial
Beams from vengeance making clean incisions
Rapid is its fire with precise precision
Even if the lone wanderer had no vision
Fawkes and him could easily wipe out colonel Autumn's entire division
Now approaches colonel Autumn's final hour,
Without hesitation the lone wanderer draws his sword with power
Striking colonel Autumn dead and sour
Before his head rolls into the water,
The lone wanderer convinces Fawkes to play a little soccer
the giant had been stomping through the town &
for years the townspeople would run to their meager dwellings
to escape his wrath,
for one never knew when he would strike them
or steal from them.
his moods being so unpredictable &
with no one to stop him,
he did as he pleased---
terrorizing the towns he’d make his way through,
keeping them in fear &
keeping them in check.
but one day a rock came flying from an area in the trees &
it struck the giant in the head---
though he didn’t fall,
he had been clocked pretty hard &
he turned quickly to dish out some choice violence
upon s/he who had thrown the rock.
however,
there was no one in the forest when he went charging through &
for him,
this was a great shock,
because it was the first time that he’d ever been hit by anyone,
much less an enemy who got away---
he had been deprived of retaliation.
though the bump on his noggin was large,
he did make it back to that down in time &
as he was stealing food from the house of a family that had fled in
horror,
he was hit again,
this time it happened to pelt him in the eye &
draw blood.
when his eye started to gush,
he turned, now disoriented &
not able to see clearly---
as he was wavering,
more rocks started to come from his left & right side,
hitting him all over his body---
while at first, it didn’t hurt that bad,
the onslaught began to draw blood all over him,
until finally he got on his knees to try & curl up in a ball---
the giant did roar &
it was louder than anything the inhabitants of the town had ever heard,
but the rocks did not stop coming.
soon, he had to lay down in a fetus position,
which as you might imagine was quite amusing to anyone watching,
for a giant in a fetus position is not something that one gets to see often---
still,
the rocks kept coming---
there were large ones,
small ones,
sharp ones &
rocks that split off in pieces when they hit his body---
they all came on like his own personal hurricane
developed just for him
to repay him for years of
stealing & fearmongering.
no matter how hard he tried to focus his one good eye,
he couldn’t make out where all the rocks were coming from---
all he knew was that they hurt more & more
as the attack continued.
eventually,
though he did his best to cover his head,
the rocks smashed his skull so hard that his brains oozed out like
pudding &
the giant was dead---
so
very
dead.
You stand up in the great hall waiting for a brawl; you stand up in the great hall waiting for a miracle to pull you out of the ditch.
Words of wisdom buried in your head lying in swamps in the house of the dead. My knees are shaking my heart is racing and I need something sweet to pull up my energy from the deep, the price of gasoline is getting high and the unruly weather is bidding the earth goodbye, the pilot test is coming to an end and some people will have to leave the den.
Rhetoric is flying high in the town and validity is running up and down, the wind is blowing in the south and courage is walking in the West with an overall and a vest, pulling the crowd into their enticing net and those remaining in the East are sweating from the sun beast. Energy is walking about causing the Brits to run and shout.
Rhetoric is the art of persuasive language your words will tell you where you have been, you can stand on the hill and see in Marsha Green kitchen, the pot is stirring, the beef is roasting and a sweet aroma is spilling about.
She is cooking curry too and her man has gotten a bump on his salary and everyone in Marsha Green’s family is feeling very happy.
A dinner for two has turned out to be a dinner for ten, the lion is racing around the den, they are inviting additional guest to show and so the menu list is getting bigger and the space is enlarged around the public eye. Grill fish, grill chicken, and smoked ham is there to make you feel strong.
Exotic food will calm your mood but the bulla cake will give you running belly and the curry will make you walk in a hurry. I can smell it from a distance and everyone is waiting on the invitation. The rhetoric is high and you have got to ignore it while you fly around in the sky.
What are you looking at? You have got to find someone to paint over your saucy frock, you must add additional prop and polish your finger with salt and pepper. Your foul mouth and your brazen throat will give you a little idea what I am talking about.
Rhetoric is the heart of the crown and persuasive language is wearing a long gown; no matter how soft you speak it is enough to disrupt their heart beat, your culture is bubbling up in the deep.
Keep your balance, stick to your plan and you will enjoy all the fruit of the land. Rhetoric is all you have to rely on.
SUGAR, SPICE, SOUL
Oh, yes~ my friends, that is what poet friends are made of!!
Givers, in the main, not takers. You can count on their constancy.
They read you more than once a year. Not…run over your poem
like a speed bump with no feelings!! They even soupmail you, to ask,
“How’s it going, my friend?” And you really should do the same!
If they really are your friends, they do not, like ghost-ships…disappear
into the foggy night! Nor worse, have the rule…
” I only read, who reads me!” This really would limit my world!
Just pretty words and form-acumen, nor cleverness, a poet,do not make.
It takes a true, warm soul. Whether simple or complex the poem, it is still great artistry! It is sugar and spice for the soul!
Find some soul poet friends, you can trust.Not rare, but you may find
some out to harm you. They haven’t the courage to tell you what is wrong.
So they sneak under other poet’s comments to insult you. It’s painful to
find oneself being shredded. But for me, simply confusing.
The ones with fangs work behind the scenes,actively, working to get you removed from the site. Yes, no kidding. So be forewarned! There are poets with backbone who do stop this infantile and malicious behavior.
God bless them! Hugs to such genteel poets.
I have poets alert me to any evil going on. Hugs to them all. Their numbers
are few, but such poets with high integrity!
Such chutzpah, they have and will back you to eternity.
There are excellent poets on site with over fifty years experience writing
poetry.
Then those who just began. Like myself! Be patient with yourself. Learn the
classical forms. It helps control your thoughts gets your message across clearly.
I wish you all sincere, long friendships here and the joy of writing your best
poetry. An acclaimed poet told me, “The number of poems you write is highly
insignificant. The quality of the poem, is far more important.” I
I do miss Connie Wong as many of you still do. She was the poet’s poet!! Unafraid to pen more than four words in a comment. Never a cookie
cutter comment from her. One felt embraced by her. Remember that?
No “drive-by” comments from that angel. Now in heaven.
Wishing you all sugar, spice and soul! Not only in poetry, but in life!
Panagiota Romios
10/7/2022
Some people give the illusion
there is widespread confusion
as to what constitutes the meaning of life.
But I was taught by my brother...
or was it my Mother?
It has a lot to do with the handling of strife.
A Child should be taught
that it's fine to be fraught
when trials and doubt cause reflection.
But no matter the slump
you'll get a strong bump
when surrounded by those with affection.
You are inclined to be less wary
even though the world is scary
when supported by family and friends.
And when you love one another
and even better... a significant other
you'll find the journey starts to really transcend.
But the meaning you seek
will not give you relief
if you fail to be prudent and wise.
You'll find life a lot tougher
and thus exceedingly rougher
to make sense of the things you despise.
You will find you're life will worsen
when you're not a good person
and unsure of how to do what is right.
You should seriously be leaning
towards only the things that have meaning
to improve your situation and plight.
How does a person start?
I guess I would slowly depart
from activities where you get angry and riled.
And become a far greater force
by changing your course
and become a much better Parent, Friend or Child.
Once you get a handle on strife...
You'll find the meaning of life
is to help others become a bit stronger.
And once you're a person complete
you can love all you meet
and not fear the meaning of life any longer.
But to those... who thrive on strife
to mess up their life
it's only fair to give you a clue.
So you'll be happy to know
where the wild things grow
and thus the answer is a crisp 42.*
The End
*A computer was fed all the relevant data to determine the meaning of life and came back with the answer 42. It is also the number used in 'A Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy' in their search for the meaning of life.
*Written for the poetry contest on the 'Meaning of Life' sponsored by Chantelle Anne Cooke.
*For those who are interested. My cartoon 'Bob's your Uncle' can be seen on my homepage. A new one will appear every second day.
Basketball Blues
Here I am trying to string some coherent thoughts into a prose in writing…
When there is this sudden continuous thumping noise behind where I am seating…
Oh no! That can only mean one thing, my little girl is into her basketball dribbling...
In this limited space of the living room, her boundless energy needs venting…
Ever since the local junior basketball competition has started, I wish we live on the moon…
When the whim strikes, it’s Michael Jordan incessant dribbling about in the living room…
Only the emptiness of space around the moon can silence the sounds of these staccato booms…
NASA or whatever relevant space agency, book me quickly, if possible, beam me to the moon..
Yeah, I know better, our cajolings and pleas for quiet in this living room is a waste of saliva…
This feminine version of Michael Jordan in my living room is in one of her breakaways runs afire…
Look out! Control that ball, you almost bump poor Nemo in his cute fish bowl off that table…
Where’s your mother, what do I have to do to get a little peace in this time of the day altogether…
Little girl, if you don’t mind, I’m trying to finish this little poem of mine to post on-line…
I have my readers and fans, they’re just like yours, hoping to see the best I can offer each time…
Yeah I know, your fans and supporters, they are cheering you on too, I see the picture…
But little angel of mine, please put away that blasted ball , how about something else to consider …
Let me finish up this shortened prose, post it up online and then I will bother you no longer…
After that, it would be better that I quickly retire to the master bedroom, silence there is pre ordered…
Tell me again, when is your last game, for all this thumping through the week is giving me heartburns…
Do you have to bounce that ball indoors, that noisy din will one fine day bring on angry neighbours…
Better you do something not so noisy, say, clean Nemo’s tank - it looks rather dirty to me….
What? You’ve clean it twice already in this week, are you very sure of that? How about money?..
Would you like to have some change and maybe you can grab a soda outside, it is one fine weather..
Fervently I dare hope, my little Michael Jordan, do go and pick up your many dolls, where’s Barbie..?
Move Your Body
Get up, get up and move.
Keep moving to change your mood,
to get your groove and to improve
your muscle strength and muscle tone
and your whole body’s circulation.
Don’t just sit there and watch television,
play video games, chat on the phone,
be on your computer, your cell phone
or let “Alexa” do it all.
Move your body, it will do you good.
Turn the music on and sway with it.
Start slow with your own beat.
If you could do it faster, the better.
If not, stay on your own rhythmic manner.
Stretch your arms and move them.
Shake your legs and move them
and step sideways, forward and backward
and don’t be inept or feel awkward
to grind and move your hips
and try to shake your shoulders and booty.
Do the jerk, the twist, the bump,
or try whatever moves you can.
Slow or fast, it does not matter.
Just keep moving, that’s what matters.
Keep moving your body with the music.
Now, you’re moving and swaying with the music.
You got this!.. keep doing it… Wow! You got it.
Keep on doing it and it becomes a habit.
Cool, you are now exercising for free.
You don’t even have to pay a fee
to be a member of a fancy gym
or buy expensive equipment
to get you moving and motivated.
Stop calling "Alexa” to do simple stuff.
You can do them, just get up
and move to burn those calories,
for burning them is good for your extremities.
Keep moving your body again and again.
When there’s no pain, there’s no gain.
You want to look good, feel good.
Move your body, now!
Brian Strand All Yours (Jan 30) Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Silent One When There Is No Inspiration
One of the First Place Judged on 10/8/20