Long Chintzy Poems
Long Chintzy Poems. Below are the most popular long Chintzy by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Chintzy poems by poem length and keyword.
Within these financial times of hardship we all tend to look around for some type of means
for an escape?
At times, it just feels like there is no deliverance from these times and that the Lord has
placed more on our plates than we can actually take?
Some of us suffer through extreme depression, a woeful discouragement of hope, and then
turn to drastic chintzy appearance,
We then tend to just give up on life in general and slowly our minds slip into not functioning
properly; thus becoming completely incoherent!
In a little time you find yourself becoming a vagabond and then the street-life becomes a
second nature for you,
You once owned home, a car, had a job, a loving family, but now look at how the hard times
has now taken a toll on you too?
A lifestyle that you once praised and took for granted, now no longer exist and you’re now in
search of a new hope,
Some of us get so desperate on living life, that they rather take their lives by hanging
themselves by a well knotted rope!
The road ahead of you might seem hard for you to steer your way around and make your
way through,
But trust me my friends, this road might appear slippery at first; but the Lord has something
marvelous to offer to me and also you!
So take heed in his words and know that no matter what hardship falls upon us; that he
walks not behind us but by our sides,
But there are trails and tribulations that we must cross so that we can bear our true soul and
faith and then conquer that journey with pride!
Yes, our economy has taken a financial hit and it seems that we’re on the verge of suffering
through yet another great depression,
But it is within these times my firend that we must take harkens to the Lord’s words and unto
him we bare our soul confessions!
We all have traveled and fallen waist deep into these muddy and dreadful waters of a
financial crisis and now standing still not sure on what to do?
Trust yourself within the Lord, hold fast and strong to your faith because only with him can
you see yourself through!
“In 2009 you will go through some hardship times…. And also in 2009 the Lord would take
you THROUGH those hardship times! “
Form:
Golda and Goofus.
or how a young Baer lost his luncheon and found that man need not live by bread alone.
Deep, deep in a pine-wood in the Adirondacks,
the Baers owned a cabin. [Offset against tax.]
Daddy Baer, it was said, was a Wall Street tycoon.
Red-Hot Momma Baer never rose before noon.
Their son, 'Goofus' Baer, was a no-good lazy bum;
always scratching his groin and chewing pink gum.
On a fine summer's day, the Baers went for a stroll,
left the lunch table set. [which you may think is droll]
Meantime, up wandered Golda, a pubescent blonde lass,
in a bright gingham dirndl and brim-full of sass.
Lost her way in the woods; she was hungry, footsore,
so without hesitation, she knocked on the door.
No answer, walked in, saw comestible display:
Daddy's cold chili 'carne, she passed sans delay.
Momma's limp spinach salad met with sheer disdain,
But Goofus's jelly doughnuts! She couldn’t refrain.
Washing down the repast with the Baer’s best root beer,
she felt so damn' tired - almost fell on her rear.
Climbing the stairs for much-needed repose,
she passed Daddy Baer’s chamber just wrinkling her nose.
Momma's chintzy boudoir was too outre to suit,
but Goofus's macho haven was darling and cute!
[Papered with Harley posters and pneumatic nudes.]
Golda dropped off to sleep - dreamt of muscle-bound pseuds.
Hungry from exertions, the Baers slavered for food:
adults - minor tampering – Goofus’s wakening was rude.
“My favouritest din-din’s been gobbled!" was his whine.
"They only nibbled yours, left the mere smell of mine!
I'm going to bed: don’t expect to see me soon.
There’s goodies stashed there: I'll work-out all afternoon."
Captin revisionist Cat
Form:
I saw it in one of those chintzy antique shops.
I recalled that it was made for travelling musicians
that wanted to work out scores while not being overheard.
It was old and all wood. When I tapped the keys
they clacked, but each key to me seemed to clack
in a slightly different tone,
as if the pianist’s thoughts and intentions
had somehow imprinted
a musical counterpart into the inarticulate wood.
When I got it home
I propped it up against a wall, poured myself a drink
and thought what a fool I was.
The ice cubes in my bourbon tinkled unmusically.
I stared at it.
‘You can’t even play a kazoo you idiot, what the …..!’
Later, a little drunk,
I took it up and placed it on a table,
stretched my stiff fingers and played.
I played like I had never played before!
This was real, not an air-guitar thing.
Chopin and Mozart flowed through my hands
as I sped through deft keyboard exercises,
labelling quarter and eighth notes, dashing off
aurally different meters,
executing perfect pitch and phrase.
After the warm-up I was ready for my public.
With much élan and gusto, I thundered through
a dramatic First Movement.
The Andante I performed next was hauntingly beautiful.
I swayed on my stool in a deep artistic trance.
An invisible audience gasped and yes, they stood and roared
their approval, as the last note of a sonata I had
just composed, concluded a fiery Allegro.
Tomorrow I intend to jazz-duet with Oscar Peterson.
Man, it’s good to be dumb.
No Time Like The Present (Cliches Contest)
I need to get out of this place!
So very tired of everyone's bromidic rhetoric.
It's sickening...
The continuous chatter of a dramatic existence.
It's sickening...
Who are these people anyways?
Shhhh! I hear my mother whispering some old cliché, so far away,
"There is no time like the present", she says, and she's right again!
I am tired of this malodorous smelling room.
Tired of all the inferior, chintzy plastic furniture in it.
It's sickening...
And all of the neighbors tumultuous affairs.
It's sickening..
To the birds with it all, I'm better than this!
Have confidence in your own ability to overcome adversity.
Be a doer not a hypocrite of your own dreams.
GET UP! GO! LEAVE, YOU NEED TO LEAVE!
It's sickening...
Grease me up for I am wedged in this room.
It's sickening...
Well I am done being a mouse amongst all of these rats!
I'm looking forward and never turning back!
At Last! The motivation that I need!
The door is opening as I walk right through it,
and never look back...
Ecstatic...
Smiling...
Happy...
Goodbye Harvard University!
03/25/16
Cheated on her three times, said it was her reluctance to marry
Each time she took him back, finally on her finger his ring she’d carry
But even as she wore it, her fickle lover cheated again
She threw the chintzy ring at him -- cheap zirconium
Knowing he had a gun in his car, stealthily she had to act
Purchased a container filled with gas, a lighter in her pocket packed
Drove to his neighborhood, parked down the street in a wooded lot
Saw them making love through the window, her stomach tied in a knot
Suddenly it occurred to her that her own life would be jeopardized
Knowing she would be denied heaven, her fear was energized
She threw the oil can away, made haste to a nearby church
Praying aloud, she asked for guidance as on the pew she perched
Contrite as always, seeking sympathy, next day he appeared at her door
But instead of a man she saw a beast, in flames his soul would rest evermore
Justice has a way of coming about; her murderous thoughts had vanished
But from her life this pathetic loser would forever be banished
*Entry for Susan’s “Getting Away with Murder/Murderous Thoughts”
By Carolyn Devonshire, October 4, 2011
A million dollars!
Are you kidding me?
I would have been happy with a million cents,
A million fried shrimp, a million point on Allpoetry.
But a million dollars!
What?
You are not kidding, right?
First I dance around the room, then I get all my lists out.
I have been thinking about this for years.
I want my own fire truck - not a toy one, but a real one.
I want my own art barn, complete with loft, and a spiral staircase.
Three-story, but now, well, why don't we must make it four-stories?
Pop in an elevator too.
Why be chintzy?
An elevator at both ends!
Next I will go to the pound and release all the dogs.
I am the new owner, am I not?
We will need to buy them an island, and I will have to
hire some care-takers; children probably, for they talk dog the best.
A million dollars! I am going to be so selfish! More selfish
Than I have ever been before.
Just ask me for money.
The answer is no.
I am greedy already, and I love it!
He saw it in one of those chintzy antique shops,
recalled that it was made for travelling musicians
that wanted to work out scores while not being overheard.
It was old and all wood. When he tapped the keys
they clacked, but each key seemed to clack
in a slightly different tone,
as if the former pianist’s thoughts and intentions
had somehow imprinted
a musical counterpart into the inarticulate wood.
When he got it home
he took it up and placed it on a table,
stretched stiff fingers and played.
He played like he had never played before!
This was real, not an air-guitar thing.
Chopin and Mozart melodies flowed through his hands
as he sped through deft keyboard exercises,
annotating quarter and eighth notes,
executing perfect tonality and phrase.
Tomorrow he intends to jazz-duet with Oscar Peterson.
'Man, it feels good to be dumb', he thought.
Do Decide to Think Upon
Amongst your midst a great poet there now is
James Horn happens to be the name of his
Who other poets always love having around
Each poem often has left them spell-bound.
Out of the ordinary all of Horn's poems are
Exclusively exceeding others way by far
Writing awkward poems is primary attribute
Religiously endowed and of all evil never a root.
By Grace of God will be graciously inspired
And for a few years now has been retired
To Super Duper Poetry Soupers poem is sent
To be one of the day receiving a compliment.
Make compliments wonderful and not chintzy
Just because poem was born of and by me
Had come to a conclusion to write this one
To read and then do decide to think upon.
my castle is twenty-six foot high in the top of two cottonwood trees
My daddy made it for me, he called it a tree house, but it is my fort.
My refuge, my camouflage, my hearth, my home.
I can sit here all day with a pillow, a swig of water and seven books.
I would make it eleven books, but the library is chintzy.
They will only allow me to check out seven a day.
My castle is where I go when I want to remember the best days of my childhood.
Summer days, when I could do what I wanted when I wanted.
though it has been fifty years, I can hear neighbor’s voices, and I smile.
Remembering their conversations, their arguments, their personalities.
I will never have a castle any better than this.
In Spring young thoughts turn to fancy
life around us is renewed
ladies wearing gowns all chintzy
Do entice men with a curtsey
careful least it's a wedding bed
in Spring young thoughts turn to fancy
Now the ladies, a few doxy's
love to spin, their skirts all spread
Ladies wearing gowns all chintzy
Love comes courting in ecstasy
the fashion this year is redheads
in Spring young thoughts turn to fancy
The ladies are so full of moxie
lead men on but no maidenhead
ladies wearing gowns all chintzy
Fluttering eyelids so saucy
men their passions this time unfed
in Spring young thoughts turn to fancy
ladies wearing gowns all chintzy