Long Cheeked Poems
Long Cheeked Poems. Below are the most popular long Cheeked by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Cheeked poems by poem length and keyword.
A joy it is to see
planted in his honor
A Memorial Tree
Roots, memories of Milton
and a kind act for the ecosystem
Forget-Me-Nots shall be written
by your poetry pals, ‘till then
RIP
Lewis Milton Hankins
[Poet]
December 5, 1941 ~ December 22, 2022
Paris at Christmas
Paris at Christmas
city of lights for a week
streets decorated
Eiffel Tower lit
like a Christmas tree aglow
tourists staring up
shoppers bustling crowds
bells ring; children caroling
joy is everywhere
rosy-cheeked Santas
wrapping presents with ribbon
in department stores
light sprinkle of snow
sleigh ride through the Tuileries
wrapped tight in blankets
by L Milton Hankins
December 5, 2022
I Am Anaya comment: Feliz cumpleaños a ti! Belated, hope it was a nice
one Milton. Paris must be on your mind, your many memories of Paris
are joyous! 12/6/22
It was Milt's Birthday, and I could feel the joy in his poem, I felt it!
Winter’s snow softly falls, flurries
invite me to a magic kingdom -
naïve of bitterness. Cold and warmth
tethered together - in lover’s arms, in hats and coats,
ethereal frozen hands over a chestnut fire.
Rivers made with planks of ice - bridges to a
macrocosm ecstasy of skating, sledding and more - all
against a backdrop of ancient oaks, maples and pines -
glazed with vanilla icing. Gilded Rooftops trill peppermint*
icicles. We snap them off and lick, like lollipops. Rosy-cheeked
children melt, in this serendipitous, wonderland of snow.
12/24/2016
*Illusion to candy canes
The shiver from the opened window.. flair
adventure blooms rose- cheeked upon the day.
The bags packed wait beside the tumbling stair
and soon the engine purrs without delay.
From ground to air unfettered form arises
outstretched open hand and heart embrace,
the foreign soil, the scent of ozone flies
and one arrives reborn with new space.
Babble greets, so welcoming, infant ear.
New taste, new spice, new dialect ringing.
The text, the style, the cloth of humans here
awaken long past lives with voices singing.
Once more reformed, am I, upon the page,
my nascent joy out spread across new stage.
Starlight explosion entertains cherubic-cheeked Moonpie,
Arrayed in soothing baby blue receiving blanket pure sky,
whilst the Winterworks whistles a New Year’s Eve Lullaby.
A snow princess in pink, shadily winks at the blond guy.
The Christmas surprise will morph into a Spring butterfly.
On Independence Day, his sparkler eyes no longer shy.
Catherine’s wheel cut with Cupid’s flambé arrow does intensify
their elementary crush, as they learn to add, much later multiply.
Fireworks on display from first sight until puckered lips bid goodbye.
12/31/2019
First Time Here - Any Monorhyme Poetry Contest
Sponsor: William Kekaula
A time for many a part-time passion, like
the discarded skin of Esprit jeans and low-hip waistline
baring pierced navel with flavor of a chase on the run…
would he dare confess real love as the world tolled
for Lady Diana and Charles?
You with me… moon to sun, fire to burn our eyes…
I swing on an illusion and steal the time away,
rustling along a Mustang’s back seat, while
some 8-CD tract pleads, "Do you think I’m sexy,’’
dipping in steams of instant affection.
How deep-cheeked your thrills
like Indiana Jones , knocking me
off-balance: and I, a fool ignoring the pain
that you may never Stand By Me,
never in blinks of thousand stars,
a recycled tune melting in the sand
now you’re just ozone’s hole...
I wrap the scenes along Route 25,
as bittersweet time passes by. Alone.
Kelly Deschler's Decades Contest
``Do You Think I'm Sexy
and Stand By Me-- top 80s songs
The Joy of Shopping for Death Tools
Oh the shopping spree
what joy what glee
how natures all in harmony
The moon full
Round
the belly swells fertile ground
From the seed spurted within
Dig it up raze it destroy the divisions before they multiple-- unsanctity!
Cherry red ruby cheeked frail pale white. Dotted mottled maudlin girl
Golden glistening scintillating curls-- mocking me with life!
Once twice wrap round the bag
bag goes over the head goes down tie you up
your wrist are bound
tighten the belt crush the chest
Petechia flushing now bursting beauties
Bit by the hair o' the Burke
Snuffin the animate oh what furious work
That furry beast howls within an attractive glimmer in the eye as the eyes unite one soul slips to that unconsciousness black abyss of dreams
condensation obscures ruby cheeked whiteness
Exhilaration thrilling pumping life force
Yeah-- that what its all about...
E nchanted by the elements, Goddess Earth excitedly
A rises, anticipating all her awe-inspiring artistry;
R eveling in the rapture of the rivers’ ripples or roses’ rare redolence;
T antalizing us with her talent for turning out utter transformations.
H er heart holds hues of happiness!
R obust and rosy-cheeked, she rambles,
A dorning arms of trees with amethysts in spring and apples in autumn.
D ancing from dawn to dusk and back to dawn,
I nstinctively and impulsively, she illuminates with imagery - in
A nd out and all about, she ambles ardently.
N ever endingly, this nimble nymph
C apriciously creates - combing sky with clouds and coaxing colors onto canyons,
E xuberantly and effortlessly embracing all of earth’s expanse effulgently.
R iding rainbows or rapids; rending rocks when riled, she regulates and replenishes.
I nherently and impressively imaginative, she is invaluable in
D auntlessly and dulcetly delighting with dazzling display.
E arth, who exhales exquisite breath, may your radiance ride be everlasting!
An Anagram poem!
London is bewildered by its roads
The Circular, the North,the South, the Codes
The Morse and the Enigma Turing broke
So now we have new bicycles with spokes
Once we had the A to Z in hand
Turn it upside down and you'll be grand
New technology has made great strides
Carrying us to Eden ,what a ride
The motorways are empty for tonight
God decided we had too much Light
He taught the bare cheeked Moon on Jesus' mount
To turn the other side when love's about
I liked to use a compass and a map
But now, my dear, most everything's on tap
I crouch beneath my sister as she drives
In the dark on the M 25
But if it's closed, we are completely foxed
We left the old Road Atlas in a box
Along with all my ex's underpants
And naturally his principles of Kant
We may be in Watford or in Bucks
I often wonder what will rhyme with luck
We may be near St Alban's, we can't see
The car ran up the trunk of this oak tree
We rang 999 and they are here
A fire engine filled up with Kentish beer
A ladder for the ladies to climb down
Now they are just women on the town
London won't exist ,destroyed by cars
God himself hates the North Circular
Nobody listens to God anymore...
Even the pontiff has an ear of salt and stone.
Cherry-cheeked cherubs play frisbee with their halos.
The masses flaunt sinfulness like a cheap brooch.
As those four horsemen are surely approaching.
Our collective consciousness has crumbled into shadow.
Butterfly and finch song crushed into powder.
Nobody listens to God anymore~
They've made the creator into a comedic cliché.
Placed the nose of a clown on his pristine face.
With a sweep of graffiti sweet Mother Nature defiled. defaced.
Nobody listens to God anymore...
Until the scythe shuts Saint Peter's door.
In Regards to the Birds and the Bees
In regards to the birds and the bees
depends who’s watching what he sees
and such knowledge he would bring
“birds fly – bees sting”.
Should he ask: “What should I do?”
Answer quickly, “Where’s the loo?”
for advice so quickly sought
demands an answer poorly thought
and friendship – such a dainty thing
cannot survive the sad bee’s sting
nor can it bear to see him cry
so like the bird – we wish to fly
Tis not because we do not care
but history’s taught us we must fear
the sight of “him” in wet-cheeked weep
a sight to haunt all future sleep
Alas, as cowards to the core,
we cannot say, “go back for more”
nor tell “him” that we understand
we couldn’t tell a lie so grand
our only thoughts on love undone
our true response “Run Forrest, Run!”
12/20/2017
submitted to – Men your advice to another man on females – Poetry Contest
sponsor – Brenda Chiri