Long Chloe Poems
Long Chloe Poems. Below are the most popular long Chloe by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Chloe poems by poem length and keyword.
The six plump chicken were
locked in a cage, while Witch
Hazel stirred up her favorite
sage.
She sharpened her carving
knife, licking her lips,
dreaming of deep- fried
toddler chips.
But Burf sneezed a
colossal explosion, causing a
massive, catastrophic commotion.
His flying mucus hit Hazel smack
in the eye, making the wicked old
hag scream and cry.
While she blinded and cursing
her luck, Leo pulled out a squeaking
toy duck.
He squeaked it so loudly, she tripped
on her broom, crashing face- first into
a pile of perfume.
The smelly mist made the old witch
sneeze, dropping the cage key right
by their knees.
Pip grabbed the keys with his
chubby left toes, while Hazel
was violently blowing her nose.
They unlocked the door and tiptoed
right out, but the floorboards creaked
loudly, sparking a shout.
"I'll eat you for breakfast!"
the furious witch roared,
charging ahead as her anger
soared.
But clever young Chloe had
anticipated the chase, and
squirted a bottle of cheese
in her face.
The bright yellow cheddar
blocked Hazel's sight,
making her stumble left
instead of right.
She slipped on a stray,
greasy sausage link,
tumbling backward right into
the sink.
Her pointy black hat got
stuck in the drain, while the
children laughed hard at her
bubbly pain.
They didn't just run; they
decided to play, and threw
all her magical potions away.
They poured sticky maple
syrup over the floor, making
it a trap from the couch to
the door.
When Hazel escaped the
soapy sink basin, heavy
boots started to slide and
glisten.
She did a wild split and spun
like a top, crashing headfirst
into a bucket and mop.
The six joyful kids did a
victory dance, waving a pair
of the witch's spare pants.
They skipped out the door
with a triumphant cheer,
leaving the sticky witch
crying in fear.
OH to be 21
Your 21st has finally come,
And now your journey has begun,
To say I’m proud is simply not enough,
Of the incredibly intelligent, independent,
Wonderful, wise women you’ve become,
My descendant, I’m just so chuffed,
Academically you’ve excelled at each and every hurdle,
We will encourage you every step with our supportive family circle,
You make us the proudest family that can be
As you progress through life finding Chloe,
Chloe the name of a Greek goddess Demeter,
The perfect name for you such a beautiful creature,
My heart bursts with pure pride,
My perfect granddaughter, I’ll always be by your side,
Through all the ups and downs we face in life,
I cannot wait to see you dressed in white,
You will make a beautiful wonderful wife,
The worlds your oyster filled with pretty pearls,
Success is in your nature, my gorgeous girl,
You’re destined for greatness that we can all see,
I know you will be the very best you can be,
Promise to live your life to the fullest that can be,
See all that you can see, be who you want to be,
Do all that you can do, love all that love you for you,
Be happy healthy and always have hope,
See the world and travel the globe,
However always remember the love you have at home,
It's unconditional eternal there’s nowhere like home,
My dear Chloe your life has just begun,
We are so proud, grandad me, Olly dad and mum,
All my love my grand granddaughter love from your Grandmother.
The quiet college town of
Briarwood lived in absolute
terror as a dark shadow fell
over the campus.
A serial killer dubbed the
"The Black Rose Killer" was
targeting young female
students every semester.
Senior student Chloe Miller
became the third victim,
found in her dorm with a dark
velvet blossom.
The community panicked,
and the university
administration enacted a
strict dusk- to- dawn curfew
for safety.
Detective Marcus Charleston took
over the grueling case,
desperately searching for a
single connection.
Every victim was an honors
student, but they shared no
mutual friends, classes, or
social clubs.
Marcus spent weeks
analyzing the crime scenes,
noting the pristine condition
of the floral signatures.
He discovered that the rare
black roses used by the killer
were a genetically modified
hybrid species.
Only one high- end boutique
greenhouse in the entire
state possessed the license
to cultivate them.
Marcus paid a visit to the
local shop, questioning the
head botanist about recent
bulk purchases.
The store ledger revealed a
regular customer named Victor
Thorne, a quiet, nocturnal campus
groundskeeper.
Victor had unrestricted master-
key access to every academic
building and residential hall
on the campus.
Search warrants were quietly
issued, and a tactical police
unit raided Victor's off- campus
basement apartment.
Inside the damp cellar,
investigators uncovered a
chilling shrine dedicated to
the deceased college women.
The room was filled with
stolen student ID's, hair
ribbons, and several bins of
black soil.
A specialized refrigerated
unit in the corner contained
dozens of freshly clipped
black roses.
Forensic scientists also
recovered a pair of muddy
work boots matching the
prints left at Chloe's scene.
Victor was arrested at the
university greenhouse while
tending to his next dark floral
harvest.
The terrifying reign of the
campus predator was
brought to and end by his own
unique calling card.
Victor Thorne was locked
away for life, ensuring the
students of Briarwood could
walk safely again.
.
chloe
that's what i'm here for
i mean hear
just put those away
unlesss
unless
your not here
tuh
okay
talk
yup
i can
ñyum ñyumal
ñyup
i
i can do that
uh
okay
Mr. Dresden, my name is Joshua Aaronson.
How can I help you Mr. Aaronson? How did you find me?
My wife Chloe goes to your brother's hair salon. Your brother Thomas said that you're a private detective with unusual abilities. My daughter Selene is missing.
Thomas is actually my half-brother, which is why our only resemblance is height. I presume you've already been to the police. Tell me about your daughter and when she disappeared.
Selene just turned seven. She's a little shy around strangers by nature. She's about this tall and weighs about 55 pounds. Her hair and eye color are like mine, and her hair is usually braided reaching the middle of her back. She disappeared last Saturday night after we put her to bed, sometime between 8:00 and 9:45 - I usually check on her around then before I go to bed. All the doors were locked and deadbolted. Something that was really weird was that there was a noxious smell in Selene's room, sort of like the smell of just-lit matches mixed with rotting compost. The police couldn't find anything, none of my neighbors saw or heard anything. That sign on the door that says "WIZARD". Is that for real?
I'll take your case. I'll need to visit her room, and need to borrow some objects that Selene is is frequent contact with, like favorite clothes or a teddy bear.
[Harry Dresden is the protagonist in the series of books The Dresden Files by Jim Butcher. Thomas is a White Court Vampire allied with Dresden].
God is our answer
When the mind has lost
His battle with the azure,
When a dress slips
Under a pillow,
An gold earring,
God is our answer
Before the weight of the world
Before the love of a woman,
For his intended departures,
In the dead poet
To protect the dawn,
In front of the Andromeda galaxy,
With the death of the black holes,
Before the birth of the stars
God is our answer,
In front of Daphnis and Chloe de Ravel,
In front of a Bach cantata,
In front of everything
God is our soothing response
For the worst and the best.
Inpired by a cantata BWV 197 from JS Bach
There were skies onyx at night... moons by day...
lakes pale as her eyes... breathless winds
undressing tall elms; ... she would say
that we loved, but some book said we'd sinned.
Soon impatiens too fiery to stay
sagged; the crocus bells drooped, golden-limned;
things of brightness, rinsed out, ran to gray...
all the light of that world softly dimmed.
Where our feet were inclined, we would stray;
there were paths where dead weeds stood untrimmed,
distant mountains that loomed in our way,
thunder booming down valleys dark-hymned.
What I found, I found lost in her face
by yielding all my virtue to her grace.
Originally published by Romantics Quarterly as "A Dying Fall"
A heavy quietness hung
as I waited with Mum and Dad
and Chloe.
I professed my sympathy,
my sorrow.
Their response was emptiness
unexpressed;
while Chloe, hugged
her teddy.
It seemed a long time
till the Midwife came
with the basket;
precious;
laid upon the bed.
Quietly she folded back the cover
and there
was Alexander;
a big name for a tiny form,
dark red,
almost black,
and lifeless.
The simple prayer I said,
dropped
words of faith that sank,
into the abyss.
Chloe peered
over the edge;
“Isn't he beautiful?
He has two eyes, a nose and a mouth.”
Shoulders heaved,
tears flowed,
washing the darkness of the form
we saw.
With Chloe we saw.
On this earth table where i sit to sip fury
I chose the game of cards over watching
stripped dancers
I chose a cold ice malt to flow into my intestines
As i play the game of cards
Its the love cards i cherish
the Brenda blue eyes card i pick
From the hands of a Tom
who cant let the Emily slim card go
I have to pass on the Rita tall card
to the center of the table
for other players to pick and play
I am not heartless i just love competition
I cant watch Mark take the Isabella card
As i cling to this Sophia card
Yet they are many with this card
The Alexis card is not easy to get but first to loose
I cant take that from mason
He told me a lot like Jason did
I want to quite the game
I didn't know loosing the Chloe card hurts
just like the Nicole did
But i cheer up and pull on
the Anna card
As packer fights with Dylan
For the Morgan card
That Easton threw away
when he stole Lauren card from Julia
As we play our card game
Ladies are playing their own
I am in this game
Hope I will have
The winning card
most likely that slim blue eyed card
In Austin's hand
But i have to first pass on
The Kayla card
Which i cant hold till i quit the game
For Chloe, three slices of black Forrest Ham.
Her tired meows that ache, her kitten teeth blackened
And I pet her with a heroin chic hand.
I hear of children with hair that falls out like broom straw,
Lilac bruises littering their knobby knees
And I hear that they are forgotten in 2008.
We are adults now, for those that didn't perish
But we may still bounce from hotel to shelter
Or take cover in the Churches for sinners.
I still think of that feline friend.
The memory jolts me there, every night.
It is all I have; all I can give.
You see that was my ration for the day
And the hunger is eating my ribs.
Mother, she gives Chloe the iron boot
By tossing her to the Giant wilderness
I sob for what feels like fifty lifetimes.
I never see Little Chloe again.