Long Bums Poems

Long Bums Poems. Below are the most popular long Bums by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Bums poems by poem length and keyword.


Premium Member Postmodern Nostalgia

A covert curtain raiser pulls a string and marvels at an epic scene

	Though parsimonious in essence the stage appears rather obscene

		Black cross and pitch dark raven on bold charcoal sable tapestry

			Ragged clairvoyant who twiddles cross bones by Caron's decree


The program had promised naked clarity and seductive treats

	But now no bodies couple on the wooden floor in satin sheets

		The truth however fresh from history's and other sad cohabitation

			Sours moist appetites and threatens voyeuristic contemplation


A simple box white as true innocence depicts death's surrender

	Rusty nails large as serrated daggers stick out of wood and tender

		For anyone's guess as to who holds the moribund mortal keys

			And for what the final will and wish decides to bequeath


Maybe the dramatist shows kindness after the transmission

	Once champagne flutes held council in one last rendition

		For when audiences in deck chairs recline on the Titanic

			But the fool's vessel succumbs even when Satan is manic


Spectators wait on fleshy bums for anything to be told and relieve

	The grandstand platform from misery far too mournful to conceive

		But while the actors carry on with epilogues and future insanity

			There is no second act and no dress rehearsal for humanity


10th April 2020
Form: Rhyme


Premium Member Elected Leaders

The jokes here about leaders show 
How uniformed we truly are.
Some supernatural......sinless, poets 
living up with the twinkling stars?

Are you kidding me??
What planet do you live on?
The great “unelected” white washed 
masses?

I see many whose comments are to 
humiliate any leader.
As if every Poet here is perfect? 
Many, too happy to live off the 
government money feeder.

A leader is not a circus clown.
Yes, some are dense, some cheaters.
The far left media has nothing better 
to do..than cover their lies or read them
On the Tik Tok intellectual reader...barf!

I certainly don’t like dishonest ones.
It’s totally not my business how they look.
We better glance in our own moral mirror,
To see what we have done.

Because you and I are unelected is no
Sign of perfection.
You chose another path, with leaders like
......”Sylvia Plath.?”

Pointing fingers is childish-and giggling 
at their looks?
Children do this in classrooms!
Instead of learning from books!

The unwashed, unelected, you and I,
are the bright Ones who elected them.
Get to work and throw the bums out!
Do not complain as you elected the ones 
who brought many nations pain.
Think of the Ukraine! Denied a no fly zone?
Doing that? Killed more than Al Capone.

We are far from innocents, many recently 
here, elected a fool!
It’s our job, to have no stolen elections, so
that sanity  and freedom will rule.

All-leaders are not imperfect.
All the non elected are not either. Get it?
The rapists, murderers, complainers, do 
nothing for any nation.
Elected does not mean evil, unless your 
mind and soul are on a groovy, sunflower 
vacation!


                      

           Best Wishes to All Nations
                   3-22-2022

Premium Member Bums Scarecrow Soldiers Pretty Ballerinas

Invasion of the Bums & Scarecrow-Soldiers & Pretty Ballerina’s
By David J Walker

What are you gonna be 
	I donno 
		Maybe a soldier or a bum again or a Martian
My sister wants to be a ballerina 
		But its way too cold for that 

The most memorable year was when my mom turned me into 
the tallest paper mâché octopus
Every seen 
in a 3rd grade class.

The Halloween parade would begin at 10 on the school stage that hosted 
the most ghosts & goblins
 bums and ballerinas 
		and store-bought Cops & Cinderella’s 
	soldiers and white-as-a-sheet spooks with big cutout eyes
& bums with bones 
black magically coming out of nowhere  

After dinner & Its the Great Pumpkin Charley Brown 
		We are out terrorizing the town 
	Winter coats covering our prized costumes 
	Timidly 
		Begging for candy 
Until our big brown bags could hold no more 

		Sorting
Chocolate with chocolate 
	Suckers with suckers 
	Candy bars of all kinds 
Candy lips & candied apples 
	Candy cigarettes & Popcorn balls 

	The next morning	
Moan/Groaning 
       But still 
       can’t wait for school to start & 
The retelling of the last nights Halloween Haul &
Haunted adventure

Premium Member Bums and Bumps

Sitting in my car waiting for Cathie
My eyes darting to and fro
Shorter than short shorts wherever I look
My poor heart is beating so 

Is this gonna continue year after year
Where will this madness end
Not soon I hope, this is heaven on earth
Lovin' it my very good friends

Do they know what havoc they is a-causing
Have run off the road more than once
When the real short shorts are in concert with
Two lovely wee bumps up front

Seems like an obsession of a sexual nature
It's just a normal male reaction
Promise I'm harmless, well most of the time
Till exposed to this innocent distraction

I can honestly say I've still got an eye
For girlies with those sweet wee bums
Just admire the beauty, not a dirty old man
Oh the female form, yum, yum!

Sitting in my car waiting for Cathie
My eyes darting to and fro...

© Jack Ellison 2013
Form: Quatrain

Premium Member Job Offer

Don't stop me now... I'm on a roll

The words are literally flying out of my brain

I can't type fast enough... need a secretary

Any offers? Payment will be in the form of hugs

Uh! No worries... everything will be proper

(Actually I can't promise that... but I'll give it my best shot!)

One thing I CAN promise though...

If those of the male persuasion apply and I hire one

Payment in the form of a hand shake

And will apply in lieu of a hug

But I'll accompany that with a wink and a smile!

There are side benefits for the ladies in addition to the hugs

The ladies will also receive a bouquet of red roses

At the end of this contract

And a pat on the bum... oops, scratch that!

Not their bums, silly!

Now that I've gained your confidence

That I will conduct this in a very business like manner (???)

I'll be accepting resumes at [email protected]

Offer expires January 30th 2015!



© Jack Ellison 2014
Form: Narrative


Saffa Jaffas spill like Seville


If you don’t play the big three

There’s no way

You should be seen

In the final of the WTC


That’s what’s been heard

Mean baggie greens

Have a word

Indians chagrin din

Simply absurd


Stokes bespoke blokes

Don’t give a monkeys

Run rates slate.. hate

Not WTC junkies


Ignore the pundits in their pulpits

Cryptic critics..cynics clinics

Ridicule the cruel schedule

South Africa aren’t the culprits

ICC flunkies & WTC just 

About the big 3


Test cricket divinity

Could soon be

Just an affinity

For the trinity for infinity


Unless they spread some love

From above for every brother

Share the treasure chest 

Care & invest in the rest

Actually play each other


Aussies bottom feeder media

Don’t give the Proteas

A feline in hades chance

But no day of the groundhog

This underdog is way greedier…needier


Kagiso Rabada the scheming leader

Of chock a block superstar larder

Stellar steaming speedster armada


Let’s hope the dumb beach bums

Are lampooned buffoons

Marooned by brill Saffa Jaffas

Festooned..spill just like Seville

 
The WTC may be slightly bonkers

But if South Africa can conquer

With stonker racy pacy conkers

They will be top of the tree


An up yours to

The endless tours

And friendless flaws 

Taking the piss 

Remiss avarice bliss


Of the big three
Form: Rhyme

Modern Family

Modern Family
        (A Christmas Story)

Little parasites wake up early
To tie me up in knots
They take my shoes that do not fit them
And my wallet too
Finished off my mini-bar and crashed the car
Emptied my bank account
Wished me Merry Christmas
I wish them my open fist when I get loose
They used my favorite twine to tie me up this time
Left the dishes in the sink to do them selves 
The bums are having too much fun to do their chores 
I cannot go to work with naked feet
How could they steal my shoes those little creeps
The one good bit of news is this
The credit cards have all expired
Being poor has some advantages                                                 
My parasites have names
Hooligans, wife and kids
My own personal crime syndicate
I call them friends and family

Premium Member St Mary's

It was an island of piety
out of place in Port Adelaide’s 
working class sea of pubs.
Off the main road,
St Mary’s was a refuge
for the Catholic faithful
and a few wino’s 
pretending a prayer
for an hour of sheltered warmth.

Three masses on a Sunday
drew a dwindling crowd.
My grandmother, 
dressed in her best
with the mandatory hat,
went to the 10.30.
It was a mass 
for the elderly and the young
hung over
after a late night binge.

I cut my teeth there
on the grim chew
of its doctrine. 
Back then latin rattled through
its wheezy lungs.
Old, dark, paint peeled,
it always seemed a breath away
from its last.

Creaking pews, polished
to a shine by a century 
of sliding bums, would advertise
when you were late.
Stained glass windows
filtered sunlight
through a panorama of pain.
I was baptized by that wash
of joyless light.

Almost gone, St Mary’s 
was resuscitated by Italians
keen to cage a stake.
Their statue of the Virgin Mary
poked a Mediterranean finger
into the collective Anglo eye.
Jewelry dripped, imposing
and ornate, she affronted
local tastes.
Statues were for background,
guardians of peripheral regions
placed to arrest
a wandering eye
and bring it back to God.
This Italian Virgin Mary
stood like a crowned colossus.

The old bishop’s ghost,
they say,
still wanders the church
shackled to his guilt.
Mary McKillop hovers
in his tormented head.
She's gone to God and sits
a newly minted saint.

The church grows smaller.
Lodged like a barnacle 
on Port Adelaide’s rusted hull
it still hangs on.
The Italian Virgin Mary
now seems at home
and looks down 
on rows of vacant pews.
Outside - shoppers pass in haste
to serve more fickle gods.

Premium Member Money and Thoughts

Money & Thoughts
By: Tom Wright
1998

Strange,
how money [or the lack of,
and appearances,
influence our thought patterns,
often affecting our actions towards others.
When the affluent dare to be different
they're referred to as Individualists,
or often called Eccentric,
with "a mind of their own".
When they help others
they're called Philanthropists,
and everyone seems to know!
When poor men dare to be different
They're often looked upon as Indigents,
Vagrants, "Rustic" or Bums,
"Without both oars in the water".
When they help others
They're considered stupid
and no one cares for
"It couldn't have amounted to much".



Thoughts about my great friend Wagon John
© Tom Wright  Create an image from this poem.

Premium Member Dino Dumbledee

Dumbledee Dinosaur had birds on his knees
His long, Long, LONG neck would often spout green peas
His eyes would twirl and his ears would spin
He tried to smile all the time but his mouth was too thin
He loved the waters of Twee lakes and Twee oceans
But tangled his giant Dino feet with too much commotion
He waddled and bobbled in such a funny sight
That all the Twees and Twums from Tweedledee Dum
Would run, Run, RUN it was such a FRIGHT!!!
They flew up in the air without any care
They Tweedledee Twumed on their wee Twee little bums
Till Dumbledee Dinosaur caught them midair - with such laughter
To save the day for Twee and live happily ever after!
Form: Rhyme

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