Long Cheeks Poems
Long Cheeks Poems. Below are the most popular long Cheeks by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Cheeks poems by poem length and keyword.
Gas prices on the rise again?
Folks don't know what to do?
I've found a tiny solution,
It's fuel made of doggie doo!
Several pints of canola oil,
Perhaps an egg or two;
Stir in a quart of bourbon,
Add ammonia and borax too!
A touch of secret ingredients,
I can't share more with you;
Now just a touch to set it off,
It's good ol' doggie doo!
I've got me the biggest shovel,
I'm attackin' every lawn;
Draggin' behind a garbage can,
I'm scoopin' 'til the break of dawn!
An outdoor lab in the yard,
Plus granma's rusty kettle;
Mix in all the components,
While the dog doo tests my mettle!
A hard day's work equals fuel,
Enough to last three weeks;
My face is turnin' black and blue,
On both sides of my cheeks!
With a funnel, I'm pourin' it in,
I can't wait to turn the ignition;
"WHAM! BOOM!...KA-POW!!"
This car's on a brand new mission!
Cruisin' around the neighborhood,
I'm giddy as a goofy lark;
My wife prefers to take the bus,
While I'm drivin' through the park!
A hundred miles per gallon,
Zero to sixty in three;
Don't tell nobody in politics,
Especially those in D.C.!
Someday I'll be a billionaire,
Go ahead, call me a fool;
Who would believe a country bum,
That plays with doggie doo?
Eccedentesiast
Someone who hides pain behind a smile
Someone who laughs at jokes they don’t find funny
Just to see if the sound is still believable
Someone who muffles her sobs
because her mother is sleeping
Because she cannot bear the sight of her mother’s worried eyes on her yet again
Someone who puts on makeup
to hide her red rimmed eyes
To pretend she was worrying about her looks rather than her heart
Someone who loves smiley face stickers
because maybe that would make hers a little more real
maybe that would distract them from the fact that her smile was fading
that her composure was breaking
maybe the stickers could mend the cracks in her heart
I can’t do that
I don’t remember what it’s like to laugh
For I am too exhausted to move the useless muscles
My sobs are too loud to be muffled by my pillows
And I curse myself for the crease in my mother’s brows
For ache that is sure to settle in her chest
With mascara running down my cheeks
No makeup in the world could fix the ugliness that lies within me
The stickers are tearing along with my heart
The more I stick on the faker I feel
Who am I kidding?
I am not an eccedentesiast
I cannot hide my pain behind a smile
Purple Butterflies and Raindrops on Roses
Open my eyes. See the window covered in tiny beads of wet. Hear the raindrops on roses that line the building. That isn't right. Why can I hear the soft beating of rain? Smell sulfur and smoke and ozone? I turn my head.
Soft, cotton leggings of pink and white, hug chubby, adolescent knees tight.
A long tailed pale pink shirt with white ruffles on the neck line, hem, and arms, Picturing Sponge Bob Square pants and his BFF Patrick Star.
Tiny white sandals with pink plastic flowers.
Purple butterfly clips hanging onto blonde pigtails on each side of her head. Kindergarten lunch hour.
It looks as if the butterflies are struggling to lift her up by her blonde curls to fly her far away.
Bright sky blue eyes…eye? Eye.
Empty orb but for the black blood, framed by stark white bone instead of long, flirting lashes.
Like a candle crying tears of wax,dripping red,
Veiling pale cheeks and freckles. I turn my head.
Raindrops now streaming down the window, each one rushing toward something…frantic, panic. Wash it away! Wash it away! Wash it away!
Soft, cotton leggings of pink and white, hug chubby, adolescent knees…
that will never again kneel by a bedside to pray.
Red polka dots on white sandals, one covered in congealing Salisbury steak gravy and spilled milk.
If only her purple butterflies had flown her away from school today… taken her to the fairies to sing and play.
A high pitched tone, raindrops now slowly, plop…plop…or is that blood dripping?
The ceasing rain and silence merge.
The stillness after gun fire is the loudest noise ever heard.
She came in my dreams last night,
She left a yellow rose and a love note on pillow next to me,
As always, the inscription read,
'we are friends forever and, in the eternity,'.
Since a rose is a rose,
why the red rose shines in the glory of love?
why the white roses remind us of our departed souls?
and why the yellow rose shines the rays of friendship in all of us?
Like sunshine bursting through grey clouds,
The aura of friendship emanates from its golden petals,
The frozen dew drops on its soft satin petals,
glorifies tears on my cheeks in the times of sadness,
Its mere presence and the fragrance,
fills my heart with the scent of warmth and affection.
Yellow rose you are perfection in creation,
I wonder why you have to wither away in time,
With every falling petal, a heart is broken,
with every withered yellow rose, a token of eternal friendship is lost.
5/4/2023
Writing challenge "Y word" Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Constance La France
White waves that crash upon the shore,
An aestheric sunset,amber and raw,
Dusky sands peppered with the ash of bones,
A vigour of blue,leaves every heart wanting more,
Stroking her beautiful cheeks,he saw,
In the depth of her eyes ,a place forlorn,
Her golden eyelashes covered her brown core.
A beastly wind,the drastic thunder,
the pour of rain,feeds the pitiless storm,
The sky,a greasy course tarnished with white,
Souls flash in the rain, immoral blunder,
Their eyes shine with sin in bloody forms,
Lips that tearfully wronged the right,
As reckless as thunder,a handsome blunder.
The serenity of the chirps,
Serenading birds on the peak of the branch,
The beautiful monsters of nature,
Just like the soul in her eyes,they rise up,
To him she's beauty in an avalanche,
A beast without a nomenclature,
A spirit in her charm,disturbed.
The beauty of drops of dew on the grass,
Energies of gushing waterfalls,
Or mere ripples that grace the stillness,
She was a breeze that wore off the brass,
A dreadful reality,to him calls,
Like a painful,incurable illness,
He learns that his apparition won't last.
Rubbing boys shoulders with sunburn oil. The sun smiles at the pain, the brush of fingers against raw flesh. But like a war wound, those boys be proud. Offer them a salve and they scoff, don’t need that stuff. Head back to the beach. Nudge them with a board and a wave, and they take off, up to their knees, casting themselves into the sea. Cheeks and hairlines have enemies, but the boys will wait for the tan that turns them brown, puffed up, back to tell the tales to jealous schoolmates.
They won’t speak of palm trees, nor the hot sand; perhaps they will not even remember what to say, until a prompt. Perhaps they won’t shut up about the knock down, drag out fights with the ebb and flow of riptides.
They might not remember the food that filled their empty bellies, but they enjoyed each bite of burgers at Ford’s Garage in the oldest city in America. I heard from an eyewitness that it has ghosts, the city, not this particular haunt.
Packed like fish, we headed to Florida, having to use one of the back seats for the overflow of things. My oldest grandson had to endure his seat, likened to a ball turret gunner. But this pubescent heartbreaker, though cramped, loved the isolation.
Speed traps, speedy biker, ear-splitting emergency vehicles, pelicans;
and a swift breeze upon a chilly-sunburn covered up with a soft blanket and cozied up to grandma (of course this is the nine year old).
Trip back as the GPS constantly pushed us farther from home, not in miles but in minutes and hours. But the miles moved quicker than a remembered icestorm where I couldn’t get home (only 10 minutes away), so like all long travel, the kids got their first taste, and survived.
So much to say, but signing off…
Once there was a beautiful boy
blue eyes and snow white skin,
Huge smile melted many hearts
with dimple on his chin.
Innocence enlightened
all who came to see,
With rosey cheeks and baby squeaks
this boy had turned to be...
Spoiled rotten as a child
no discipline for wrong,
Though the adults would not spank him
for once baby did belong.
The teen years were a warning
of future all down hill,
Though no-one seems to care no more
he made his peers all ill.
Marriage, he tried his best
though never was he taught,
When respect is taken
respect it should be brought.
Volatile to his wife
relationship had crumbled,
she disappeared and back not peered
at 'it' that made her humbled.
Though he was sad she left him
he did not understand,
Consequences come about
quite often much unplanned.
Temper could not be controlled
with spite now in his core,
Raging at all others
trouble even more...
Like a puzzle piece which never fit
confinement they arranged,
Ponder some- the baby boy
his life and where it changed.
My skin and hair will never fall off, because the paint will always hold us together.
Paint is perpetually on my nails, under my nails, on my toes, and on my nose.
My good clothes are often my accidental paint clothes.
I have more paint clothes than I have other clothes.
Because I keep forgetting what I am wearing, and when I want to paint, I paint.
I am a sloppy painter, putting my elbows and knees into paint, smearing the canvases,
Dumping over paint jars. Imagine a Saint Bernard trying to paint, that is me.
In the morning I am not sure if I do not use the mirror, or if I do not notice, but
When I get to work, people start cleaning me up. They apologize as they rub glitter off my cheeks,
And a streak of red or green paint off my cheek. They put my tags in, because they are always
Sticking up too. My whole staff dresses me, finding stuff I would have never seen, because I
Truthfully do not care. Dressing used to be important to me. I am not sure when that changed,
Maybe, when I started getting paint on everything I own.
BEAK OF NIGHT
Following the glow in every star in my eyes
I lay here in the frenzy grass with swimming thoughts
Escapading~
Thunder hides in the still of the night
Doves fly high in an epic way
Swans glide in the mist of night
Everest tears, run down my cheeks
Speechless~
------- I left you-------------------
The wind carries the sorrow from a chime,
A touch with aromatic perfume, that turns out control
My shadows peeks around the warmth of a Phoenix mirage
My head is losing balance to a negative magnetic seal
Secretiveness ~
Sleepwalking with the tendency to crawl
My feelings stray as I lay on this frenzy grass of snow
Years that come and years that go
Things In life I will never know
I pass the morning till the night popsicles away
A blanket of snow to cover my dream
Wings taking flight near the river stream
Mockingbirds protecting their branch
In every scream!
Silence~
---------------- Far Away-------------
Leaves fall on me like an endless Odyssey Romance
I'm a lonely sparrow with an enigmatic look
A Gothic Dance, under the stars
Prancing under the devil's claw
I hold myself
Side to side
I lose myself to an ironic form.
Zero is what I can't perceive.
Muteness~
With and without a beak
The mystique of my lips
Is all billiard-up
My mouth sewn shut
Shut up~
--------------No Words, Indeed------
EPIC
By; p.d.
May my heart remain silent, like a stone in a river,
No longer beating in rhythm with your memory, no longer feeling
Neither longing, nor love, nor time passing over
The shadows that stretch, long and cold, over
The past that secretly envelops me, like a veil
Of mist under which the soul gets lost, deepening
In the melancholy of an endless night, where only
The whispers of the wind tell me the story of solitude,
The story of a soul that loved too much and
Now seeks peace among the stars, among
Dreams that unravel when the dawn comes to
Awaken me from my dreaming, from the desire to be
What I have never been, to live what I have never lived,
To forgive what I can never forgive.
Let my words be a song that only the moon
Can hear, an echo of the pain that hides
In the depths of the heart, an echo of the love
That is no more, that will never be, but which
Lives in every beat of my heart,
In every tear that runs down my cheeks,
In every dream where I still search for you,
Call you, wait for you, without knowing if you will ever come
To bring me peace, to bring me
The light that soothes me, to bring me
The answers I have sought all my life,
The answers that only your heart knows,
But which you have never given me.
May time be a river that flows far away,
Far from me and from you, to wash away
All traces of our steps, to carry
Far away all unspoken words, all
Unfulfilled promises, all undreamt dreams,
Leaving only silence to
Envelop us, to be our shelter and
Comfort, to be our forgetting and
Remembrance at once, to be our
Refuge and end, to be
All we could never be.