Long Cheekily Poems
Long Cheekily Poems. Below are the most popular long Cheekily by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Cheekily poems by poem length and keyword.
Ripsnorting depravity cavity of sporting gravity
Severity of the brevity cheekily courting levity
Hilarity distorting polarity Tests aren’t a charity
Unpopularity resorting to double downed vulgarity
Clarity for sorting parity then humility not a rarity
Some austerity can feed & lead to prosperity
Precarity due to the complete lack of dexterity
Asperity at temerity & totality of Bazball brutality
Banality of celebrity vanity caused the disparity
Mendacity that red ball is just all about audacity
In reality plans need adaptability or fans profanity
Rapacity of elan talismans fatality simply insanity
To the skies...cries of have we sinned..the seasons spinned...winter grinned as before it’s really beginned...spring’s been sneakily binned..
That bitter wind does cheekily blow...delivers tingling..slivers of mulled wine mingling shivers..oh and..shed loads of snow..
You know it is nature's calling card...as the bleached flurries hurriedly dart. ...shards of frosty farts falling hard....
Slippery slurries beached...frippery start to beseeched.. billow wisps like waspish wafts of blossoming willow..
Chuffed to see a lush plush pillow..fluffed...puffed..buffed..kept aloft from mush.. with crystals soft..silky..stuffed
A natural ebb and flow gush...a smattering...then a rush...splattering to and fro..
Winter’s web.. gleaming coats of teeming white bright light beaming notes...
Dreams of fairies schemes….streams across mystic moats..dairy prairies floats...
Scoops of snowy soup spills..stoops and swoops…down the hills..droops off daffodil troops..
Everything swathed..bathed in wintry tiding...the sodden sky pours... hints of sly footprints trodden hiding…
Huddling crystal clusters grasping.. riding..gliding…deciding detours…
Blizzard wizard’s rasping rally…cuddling..clasping.. contours of the valley floor..
Last post gong of our winter host boast.. sounds like a love song..
In this Proustian getaway... adore the festooned foray..
Marooned yet cocooned…this wild hideaway soon shunning..
Being wreathed in bleakly stunning cunning..
Turns back to being shrouded..sheathed in meekly clouded mild...
After being amply lathered
from head to toe, aye
ya eye ya eye ya eye, and without fail
(gluteus maximus unloads a dump,
as predictably happens
like clockwork orange
after washing off suds),
this nada so grand poo ba
drops ship capsizing sinkers
(hefty waste ballast
causing sea level to rise), this aint
"NOT FAKE" just ask Cap'n Bligh
sitting athwart the poop deck
i.e. christened "Porcelain Goddess"
well nar did die
after being privy seeing yours truly
exit the water closet did espy
a much relieved rearing ass a nine guy,
which also earned me,
the nick name "Rump,"
not evident, via friendly customary wave
conveyed expediting,
(viz nonverbally)
business cheekily dreck eliminated
eh, the formality establishment,
sans customary "hi"
whereupon without any waste I
sought to secure these
weather beaten lovely bones of mine
preparatory to a tidal wave,
thus refuge sought
behind (a replica),
sans Bridge over the River Kwai
after moving ma bowels, no lie,
which predictable tsunami
predicated on my
humungous substantial
rectal discharge well nigh
generating threatening
rip snorting currents
impossible mission e'en ex spurt semen to ply
especially, flush with panic (a bum er,
but mandatory duty) when lookout scout,
(an E Medic) didst spy
an immense wall of water, aye yai yai!
Saturday Morning
Crows cawing, seagulls are screaming
Subway trains are beepng. Life is living
Strange noises from afar. The city is awakening
The rising sun looks into my room. Bad cheekily!
Shameless! Shameless! I feel bad from its light!
No sunshine! No! No!! I want to stay in the night!
In the night. I don’t want to wake up. No! Never!
I want to live in all my dreams. Forever! Forever!!
What happened last night? I can not remember
Something, I feel the cool sweetness of the cider
Oh, no memory, but the laptop knows the history
Watch back. I wrote a poem. I can not remember
The sweet cider says, read, read. I read and read
The lines. Last night. The poem. From my heart
Hmm. Oh. Deception of feelings. Disappointment
Why can't the dream feel? The dream must be left
Yeah. Looking for love. The eternal. Home of love
Yeah, the sun is killing me. The poem is cut so far
Sleeping. Dream. Day gone. I slept. It is alcohol
Late afternoon. Almost evening. Grey the window
Down. The day. Dark again. It’s night. Light of life
It’s a life. Three o’clock. I can’t stop the poem. My life
I am a slave of the time. Help me! Help! To be free!
No time. No time in my life. No more cider. Shop. Buy!
Alcohol. Alcohol. Can’t delete your life. The wished time
Time of happiness. The loved killer. Brings. Personal life
Bring, bring. Into my life. Into ours. And together die
Hmm. Together. I can’t die from Saturday to Sunday
This is a poem. My killer this weekend. The weekend
Hoped love, but the emptiness is the ruler. On my time
On my time. In my time. At my time. Be, be my kind
Be my part, be the driver, the leader, the boss in my life
Be the angel, the savior, the muse, the light in my life
The sun is radiating, a devil, I don't like this. Just dark
It is Sunday afternoon. I am full of alcohol. Life, a dark
Just swimming in the past, in the monochrome life
But so colorful, I can imagine all the souls, women, mistakes
I can’t stop this, I can’t create an end. Hmm, I stop now
No alcohol
I am going
By a bottle
Of alcohol
Bye
Hmm, it is Sunday
A beautiful black lady
Invited me a few days ago
On Wembley High Road
To a church. Mormon
I didn’t go
My mistake
I am
Sorry
Inspired by Friday evenings at the seaside.
Beach bliss
(This wonderful dream within our reach)
By Michelle Morris
21/03/2026
This is how
Friday evenings should be
Relaxing at the seaside
Beach bliss for you and me
Watching the majestic ocean
Sharing wave after magnificent wave
The sun setting slowly before us
Lasting good memories being made
Seeing happy families
Children frolicking on the beach
Having fun in the surf
White horses greet them cheekily
Dogs running here and there
After sticks and pebbles and fun
Barking and laughter and smiles
There's joy bubbling over for everyone
This is how Friday evenings should be
Just relaxing and chilling on the beach
This is how life should be for us all
This wonderful dream within our reach
© Michelle Morris, 2026
Nuttin boot mieskeit goyim...
lives among this nebbish atheist of Jewish ancestry
Tongue in cheek Yiddish
humor to playfully scold
often time sounds
like a compliment
yours truly, (a run
of the mill Shlimazel) behold
only knows a smidgen,
yet grew up within household
where foter and muter
kibitzing did unwittingly mold
their second born
and modest chutzpah
regarding only son undersold.
Though at times
he earned appellation schmuck
just ask the misses -
yea that yuck a puck
she will be more
than willing to chuck
kill with delight rattling
off with aplomb and pluck
I eagerly attest with
veracity that she blurts "ƒµ©*
you a$$hole," her
glib endearment -- yuck,
which does wonders
to spark romance
no surprise, yours truly
rather be struck
with self driving
smartass self driving motortruck.
Aforementioned language
used by Jews no longer lost
in central and eastern
Europe before Holocaust
originally German dialect
with words tossed
from Hebrew and several
modern languages jost
today spoken mainly
in US, Israel, and Russia.
More so acuity, affinity,
and avidity of late
growing interest doth
not seem to abate,
hence I could rattle
off voluminous spiel
megillah but best abbreviate,
otherwise which followers
might suddenly abominate,
thus this son mentsh chin hubble
meshugener wordsmith
best accommodate
preferred brevity lest
he doth accumulate
a slew of gentile enemies,
apt to annotate
unsolicited comments
their choice lingua franca
pointedly, happily, decisively,
and brazenly annunciate
and cheekily crow
kush meyn tukhes
in Macy's window.
Analogous to most
every previous poetic theme
I set low standards on par
with Bupkis, you probably deem
that comparison over the top,
hence please choose a meme
most apropos even extreme
expletive epithets or... dream
up fictitious, (albeit "fake")
that one day maybe come supreme.
Sometime last night, resting
inside of my home
I heard a voice singing(?!)
I was not alone
Not sure what to do
I just tried to ignore...
But he went on for hours
in unwelcome encore
Oh, that freaky falsetto
went on for so long
in a shrill, shrieking, trembling
annoying song
That at last, I had had it-
how dare he invade
my home with his frightfully
screechy serenade?
I searched every room
behind curtains, under beds
if I found that intruder
he'd wish he were dead!
Then I began to wonder
if he wasn't outside
for I'd looked everywhere
no more places to hide...
But, at length, he grew louder
I knew he was near
so cheekily taunting me
offending my ears
'Til at last, he popped out!
Cheeky chap in plain view
so I swung into action
and pursued him anew-
Round and round thru the house
how I chased and he fought
until spent and exhausted
he finally was caught!
I carried him to the door
and tossed him out, satisfied-
when (to my horror)
three more crickets hopped inside!
Slowly spring sun caresses the land
As kowhais will softly provoke
Flushes of yellow to gently expand
Their buds of the season uncloak
Helping bellbirds escape from winter’s last choke.
Methodical beats of wood pigeon wings
Whoosh thru the quiet spring air.
Melodious trills as tuis’s sweetly sing
Fantails flitter, with hardly a care
While bush robins cheekily dare.
Fragrance of earth sweetens the breeze
New lambs adventure and race
Dragonflies linger, then floating past trees
Whio dart up the river with grace
My core just idolizes this place.
I climb up the mountain out of the trees
A kea, the comedian of the highland flies past
Does a sharp turn, lands on a boulder to tease
It’s green, blue and red feathers contrast
Their intelligence and pranks unsurpassed.
Day turns to evening; a morepork issues its call
A mournful sound that echoes the night
I descend in the darkness at the pace of a crawl
Then the hoarse cry of a kiwi just out of my sight
I'm relaxed. One day with the birds and I’m no longer uptight.
For info on these birds www.nzbirds.com
“We must feel glad that, for the moment, the kea has been saved to amuse us, surprise us, even annoy us and damage our property, and cheekily remind us that land was not made just for the benefit of the human race.”
– Authors Rod Morris and Hal Smith on the kea
------------------------------------------------
Endemic to New Zealand
Omnivores in harsh alpines
Smart, playful, curious bird
Parrot species endangered Kea
Delightfully curious, clever learner
Lover of new things
Waitaha gave them name
‘Guardians of the mountains’
Flying emeralds, camouflage wild
Ground nesting social lives
Vulnerable to ground predators
Stoats, possums, feral cats
Wires, power lines, cars,
Chocolate, wrappers, plastic, rubbish,
Lead, Timms traps, baits
Wrongfully persecuted Nestor notabilis
He knows me more than I know myself.
I live through him always —
in the way he smiles, in the way he talks.
In the way he tastes and in the way he walks, it's all me.
I am his heartbeat and the pauses in between.
There is no space between us, even when we're apart.
Time doesn't travel between us; we carry it along, savouring each second.
We didn't get each other — we always belonged and just found ourselves again in this lifetime.
It isn't partnering up; it is the becoming of one soul, one life, one purpose.
To know he walks anxious when he's mad at me but will never yell.
To know he'll go out of his way to make me laugh.
To know I can rely on his shoes when my heels hurt after a long walk, even though a pair of my crocs are in the car.
The times he brings me closer by my hips.
When he cuddles me and sees beyond my tummy rolls.
When he cheekily slips his hands in my shirt.
And the mornings I wake up with him between my thighs.
The coat when I'm cold, the warm water when my throat is sore, the socks in winter and the cure when I get a splinter —
it's all him.
He's in my comfort food, my cozy bed.
His eyes are my morning view.
To me, home is not a place — it's a person.
And it's him.
His breath calls my name, and mine calls his.