Long Chortled Poems
Long Chortled Poems. Below are the most popular long Chortled by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Chortled poems by poem length and keyword.
Me and Mickey Roberts
Climbed from his car.
And me and Mickey Robert’s
Brag walked to this bar
Only to be greeted by
This welcoming shout.
The old landlord it seemed
Was moving out
And the first few beers
Were gratis free
Even for strangers
Like Mickey and me.
Those two young girls
Just standing there
Mine had long dark
Dark flowing hair
And a pair of lips
Just needing a kiss.
This could be
A night of bliss.
I couldn’t understand,
Couldn’t think why
She looked at me
With admiring eye.
I must be very brave
She thought,
How and on earth
Was my job taught.
Mickey stood there
with his big daft grin
And I knew once again
He’d dropped me in
The deepest of deep ends,
Mickey Roberts,
My joker friend.
I blew it of course
And we lost both the girls
My lovely lass
With the flowing curls.
I’ll never forget
The slap on my face
Before they stormed
Out of that place
All the bar laughed
As I turned red
Trying not
To hang my head.
Mickey just chortled
All the way back to base
And I suppose I had
A grin on my face:
The very next day
Micky was gone
The army in its wisdom
Had moved him on.
I never ever met or
Saw Mickey again
But over all those years
I still remember when
Micky spun his yarn
And I let him down,
But really, me a lion tamer,
Him a white faced clown!!
Young rookie cop was horrified at the old lady’s truth.
She wanted to put on the cuffs and haul her in.
Wait a sec, the veteran sergeant said. This is Auntie Ruth.
She might not be the culprit. She has an identical twin.
So let’s go get the other one, said the rookie, Ilene.
Not as easy as you think, it has been years since she’s been seen.
Maybe she killed her also, the rookie cop said, horrified.
Where would the body be? It would smell if she died.
The rookie could not believe the blasé’ attitude of this man.
Maybe his days on the beat had better come to an end.
Auntie Ruth poured her a glass of dandelion wine.
To tell the truth, it smelled amazingly fine.
I killed him on a Wednesday, the old lady said.
I chased him out of the kitchen, threw soup can at his head.
He was dead as a certificate, and it filled me with glee.
The rookie was askance at her loud tee hee hee.
She said I have some paperwork to do and went to the car.
This lady could be an axe murderer as far as she could tell.
Let’s go said the Sarge, he had a plate of cookies on his lap.
She thought he was an uncaring weird old set-in-his-ways sap.
When they got to the station the other rookies surrounded her.
Met Old Auntie Ruth? They chortled and cackled with orneriness pure.
She is the Chief of Police’s wife, and has dementia that makes her a queen.
We go to visit her every Wednesdays, to listen to her tales of mean.
You mean she has not killed all of those people with axe?
They laughed at her naïve eagerness to laugh at the facts.
She’s a harmless old woman, they assured her, quite safe.
None realized she’s killed that day their Chief, who now lay in the lake.
It’s 6:15pm. Peter, Anna, Sophy and I are studying in the common room of our suite.
“We need to get serious,” Peter whispered, but there was no subject in the declaration, so I was left confused and uncommitted, “about getting serious,” he clarified.
“I’m not sure I can get serious about a guy who doesn’t separate whites and darks in the laundry,” I say, gently.
“No,” he said, shaking his head in brief vibration, “we need to get serious about DINNER.”
“Oh!” I said, maybe a little too relieved.
“Ha!” He chortled, “YOU overthink everything!” He said, nodding his head up and down to prove it was true. “And speaking of laundry,” he continued, seeing me start to open my mouth, “the other night YOU asked me if your pastel purple panties should go with the whites or darks - so I must be an EXPERT!”
I laughed at the idea of his laundry expertise, sailing in from out of the purple like that, it was haywire. “Well,” I said, becoming introspective, “I didn’t know you’d hold onto that question like a grudge,” I said, in quiet, wounded accusation, “from now ON, maybe you should stay as far away from my panties as possible.”
“What are you two grousing about NOW?” Anna asked, looking up from her computer. “You guys are like an old married couple.”
“True THAT.” Sophie said, like a judge right before knocking her gavel to finalize a ruling.
“We weren’t arguing!” I said, looking around confusedly. I looked at Peter, who was smiling broadly, “Were we?”
“Nope,” he said, wrapping his arm around me in a bearhug, “we were flirting.”
Tears of the Dragon
I splashed water on my face;
the mirror cracked in half -
a reflection of fear and doubt.
It was dark in that cold place
of shattered scales.The sea -
rushing over that rusty sink;
and I can’t think about it.
My wings are clipped;
my breath’s dry sulfur.
I said my prayers;
the mirror just chortled.
Chilblains chatter, sore;
the floor, a horror show.
It was doubtful I’m standing -
what for.
Eruption of the mirror
dares me to peek,
but I’m six feet under
my sheets.
It’s Winter here; I drag my tail.
My sharp-teeth-grief’s unyielding.
Of fierce and fiery tears - there is no end;
unholy flames of years misspent.
Was it off-white?
A cavity on the hem of my socks
Undulation,but palpably grazed
like the letters you never unfastened
I set sail for my untrimmed toenails
A cavity on the edge of my nail plate
“Ma, its uneven”
Notes, chords, and bolted doors
Inaudible, I pulled more thread
Attenuated, I pulled
The darkest possible color
Reached my wavering fingers
“Ma, it wouldn’t look good”
Chortled, was something funny?
I couldn't catch it
“Ma…my needle broke”
Rainbows glimmered after a laugh
I'm thirsty
My sock is missing
Two large figures left the room
Loose clothes
And covered feet
“Ma, my thread is thin”
Did i a) release a co-written novel
----------------with a guy who promised his sister and created a book of own poetry
-------2) sat beside my son and heard him giggle
-------W)hat is going with his let hers and numb bears
-------X) look sideways see the chortled smile
-------A as in again) what is a bove and have you ever seen a lert
-------S)pent our moments slowly
---------------------------W wonce a gain
----------------------------------- -Oncest a up on at Thyme
----------------------------------- ------come on the time bit was good
--------S)hould it be a shoop
---------No umber ember embers remember-
----------1) eventually every photograph contains a ghost
----------H)ow fast is an instant tan bus
----------T)he Mother and the mother
----------------------------------- dying in the same weak
------------D) id i use the wrong week
------------B) four-
------------E) very word every head
----------------------------p and d
-------------I) s made--u-------o
----------------------------------- --w
----------------------------------- --n
-------------T) he fourth forth in forth in this sentence
----------------------------------- -----------------is the scotish firth which is a river
---------------But the firth of fourth is real
---------------I)f i comment but don't mean it
---------------w)ould that be a commentnot
---------------W)hat no comment---------------------r a line at time a
---------------B)reaking the-----------------------------e
----------------------------------- s--------------------------i
----------------------------------- p--------------------------r
----------------------------------- e--------------------------r
----------------------------------- e--------------------------a
----------------------------------- d--------------------------b
----------------R)oadrunners can fly
----------------O) nce heard a really old guy in
----------------------------------- -the kiss of Glasgow
-----------------R_eprimand some dope ladden chuckles
-----------------S)oon changed when asked through smile if they had
-----------------anymore
----------------If ifs could change their names what ifs would be galore
----------------w)h
----------------?)
The man in the elevator was a plump rounded one,
The buttons of his suit almost coming undone.
He chortled with his might when I walked in,
His askewed moustache fluttering like a bee.
Whipping out a comb he brushed his hair barely made,
His oiled strands of four plastering on his head.
Next came the perfume which he sprayed with gusto,
While I sneezed and choked right in tow.
Pulling the belt barely up his tummy,
He cleared his throat quite like a dummy.
Off I ran into the closing doors with a slam,
Before his paunch held them back - followed by an "At your service ma'am!".
“Mice” is nice but might be called “mouses”
if a couple is next to a screen
and there is no screaming from me
except in excitement at my selection.
That Razer Viper V2 Pro
so light and quick under my palm.
Point, click and scroll with complete control.
Sexy as that is, mine’s plain old gray,
like an old man in a squeaky wheelchair.
And my guy started the whole shebang
when he started the mouse wheel turning
in my mind. He said he was taking mice
to India. I chortled at the thought of two
as well as the word choice. How cool
that I can pound on a tablet screen
to ask “the boss” the proper way.
Improperly, the internet replies
that both are right. How can both be right?
I just know my guy is wrong because
the opposite means his wife is…
I can’t even say it. Mice or mouses,
marriage lice or louses. Scroll wheel
turning, turning, turning and “Proud Mary
burnin’” daylight, agreeing to disagree.
*lyrics by John Cameron Fogerty
He said that it was brillig, but what did that word mean
And slithy is a word that I had never seen
If you gyre and gimble, what do you really do
I guess when in the wabe, you seek the meaning too.
Lewis was a master of words that were not real
He made you fear the Jubjub, and he made you feel
Like your very being, is a door without a latch
It takes bravery to shun the frumious bandersnatch.
We attack the world of words with a vorpal sword in hand
Verses, like the Tumtum tree, sprouting in the sand
And structure with rhyming can be a manxome foe
Whiffling and burbling, the flaming words will go.
Choosing careful phrases can bring a frabjous day
And poems not dead, like borogoves, find their mimsy way
While galumphing through the tulgey lines with uffish chortled joy
It makes me through and through a whiffling beamish boy
So Lewis paints a picture with unreal words so clear
The Jabberwock seems so real and something we should fear
Poetry is the art of words, with phrasing, tales and fun
Proceed carefully, and beware the Jabberwock my son.
He pulled up to the Triple "T" Ranch in a shiny Cadillac.
In his trailer was an Arabian steed with the finest tack.
He wore Tony Lama alligator boots and Calvin Klein jeans,
And a stylish Stetson hat - he looked like a man of means!
He strode to the corral where grizzled cowpokes lazed.
They chortled at the greenhorn, each of them amazed!
"Where's the boss?" he asked, "I'm seeking a position!"
"Over yonder" said they. (The boss eyed him with great suspicion!)
The boss sauntered over to see what the hullabaloo was all about.
"I'll handle this! You fellers git back to work!" he said with a shout!
He sized up the lad saying, "Son, I ain't impressed with them fancy labels!
But you're hired! Here's a shovel! Ya kin start by muckin' out them stables!"
Entry for Carolyn Devonshire's "Green Humor Rhymes" Contest