Long Chuckling Poems
Long Chuckling Poems. Below are the most popular long Chuckling by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Chuckling poems by poem length and keyword.
Darling, Your smile under mask
Glistening your eye,
I was asking for a moon
I got whole sky.
Your hand wash cleaned palm
perfuming like jasmine,
I was asking for a flower
Now total garden is mine.
After getting social distancing
You get close to my heart,
Darling, when you are with me
I can remove all the dirt.
In this global lock down
You are locked with me,
When lock will be opened
We will be chuckling with glee.
All sweet sour experience
will be treasured in time,
I have been patting your back
You are more than mine.
I will never forget your care
You erase all the odd,
You will be housed in my soul
Within you, I see my God.
We sat beneath a night sky of graduated charcoals, blacks and interstellar blues. Fall’s begun its indispensable work, banishing the harsh sun, the creepy lanternflies and hot summer nights.
The stars seemed hesitant tonight, like they feared the sun might change its mind, reverse its course and run them back off - except one, which Peter says is Jupiter (and therefore not a star at all).
We were (Peter, Sunny, Anna and I), studying, in our fold-up lounge chairs and reading by little kindle lights clipped on our books. Leong’s there too - supposedly studying - but in reality, she was waiting for her date.
Leong and Sile have been flirting since last year and tonight’s their first, official date. Leong’s never been on a western date before or ever been alone with a boy in a car. She’s only seen romance in movies or from afar, like an astronomer viewing a distant moon through a telescope.
Her outfit, though casual, was coalesced from six wardrobes and no king or questing knight has ever been dressed more carefully or with greater ceremony. She even positioned her chair at a carefully chosen angle, to show her, initially, in her best light - “Zhù ni hao yùn!” She insisted (It’s good luck).
She’s a gorgeous, brilliant, amazing woman with a razor-thin veneer of amorous confidence. I know my nerves playup when I’m uncertain about things, but Leong’s playing it off, acting casual.. ish.
Finally, with an almost physical jolt, she saw him enter the quad. As he approached, his every aspect was scrutinized by vigilant, overprotective roommates. The air was filled with the whispered buzz of shared analysis.
Soon they were walking off together and chuckling at something we couldn’t hear. It’s funny, I’ve never felt so much like a parent.
Deep within the city park
stood Barnaby, a highly
grumpy, semi- sentient apple
tree.
He absolutely despised
when children approached
with fawning, goofy faces to
steal his fruit.
Whenever kids giggled and
reached up, Barnaby would
furiously shake his wooden
branches.
THWACK! A barrage of ripe,
juicy red apples went flying
like heat- seeking missiles.
He pelted the screaming kids
right on their bottoms, chuckling
a low, creaky laugh.
The children thought it was a
hilarious game and ran through
the park intentionally.
They made ridiculous,
exaggerated kissy- faces just
to trigger the tree's flying fruit
defense.
Barnaby snorted woodchips,
launching a rapid- fire green
Granny Smith straight at a
nose.
The park echoed with loud,
joyful snorts as apples
bounced harmlessly off
targeted bellies.
The grumpy tree finally
smiled, realizing his thrown
treats made everyone incredibly
happy.
"Two doves in white flying, feathers glow beneath the morning's rainbow colors" - Charles Messina
The sun thaws in a kaleidoscope of hues,
of crimson, yellow, and blue flows.
As the sun slumps into direct view,
Sited off the coast, back to repose
Sparkling shades pervade the sky,
tributes to the lonesome moon.
colors that are so vivid to the eye,
Birds soar aloft to the nightingale's tune.
Final sight of aesthetic grace,
ahead of the onset of total nightfall.
Relish the extent and luster of the place,
awe-inspiring beauty, and splendor of it all.
Conch gem and sylvan shell,
splash ashore with scenic beauty.
Sapphire tides wished each other well.
over hills uttered in the birds' first fluty
Absorb the morning's chuckling allure,
it dispels fear and helps you sparkle like jade.
Believing that love offers a delightful lure,
delight at dawn with the sky's shade.
2nd place contest winner
Written November 30, 2022
Submitted to: "Colors in the Sky" Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Mystic Rose Rose
Ecclesiastes 3:1 (KJV) "To every thing there is a season, and a time to every purpose under the heaven:"
As haunting as autumn’s waltz,
When the maples and oaks charm,
Dancing in ambers, golds and hearts,
Risking the shadows to become…
Like a ache beneath the skin, silhouettes
Graceful and warm, resembling a silent sun
Who erases every stardust thought,
Caressing the moments with hope
As stirring as springtime’s fresh,
Longing to breathe light into the past,
Where laughter and giggles dispel
Any worry the spirit might have felt,
Arriving just in time to combine joy
With the kindness of tulips and daffodils,
Vibrant displays of pretty, splendor
Mysterious kisses bent to brush gold
Over the morning, the dawn
As careful as the ice storm who nips
At the beauty, even the hills shuddering
Distracted by the sudden darkness,
The gloom of winter’s song collected
On the air, where the brightest prayers
Arrive to send us home, amid snow covered
Patches of promises, frosty flavors
Frigid as the melancholic dread spreading
Like fire through the night, starlit
By flaming fires of anticipation, dreams
As elated as the summer’s vacationers
Venturing into the far corners, amazed
By chuckling images of passersby,
Portraying the sunrise, the sunsets
Alive as the moments when escaping
The normal, the everyday – typical
Moments abiding in the flavors of glaring
Sun, breathing wonders through the
Glorious sighs of June and July – even
August is weighted down with rays
Stilled by the magic that never fades
It is these, the hot and heated days
The freezing thoughts and chilled moments,
Blessed by the changing renderings
Seasons so wise, so willing to abide inside
The one who remembers to appreciate
Both the light and the night, the beautiful
And the repulsive – these are all pieces
Spelling the grace that has a reason…
To everything there is a season!
Leaves calling to one another,
Clinging to branches of their mother.
"I remember the spring when we were new.
Remember how we sang to you?"
Called out a Golden leaf to her,
Then all of her leaves seemed to stir,
When mother nodded in in the breeze,
Their songs filled up her memories.
"I would sing with all my might!"
Said a red hued sister to Golden's right.
Chuckling the sisters all remembered,
Even as current as early September!
They often sang when the sweet winds blew,
Or when they awakened moist with dew.
The days were filled with whispered songs,
Through the spring, all summer long.
"Remember that sweet summer night,
When all the stars were shining bright,
And you lifted your branches up for hours
Praising heaven for meteor showers?
I wondered why we felt no rain,
I thought that you had gone insane!"
Then shaking gently with laughter, the tree,
And all the children chuckled with glee,
Remembering that sweet August night,
When the showers came with no drop in sight.
Each golden moment with her leaves,
Their mother held deep in her being,
For spring was past, summer gone,
It was cooler now with each new dawn.
She'd born her children, and as they grew,
Of fleeting joys she truly knew.
She thought it not to be too strange,
The days would fly, her leaves would change.
She sighed beneath October's sun,
For the Autumn's days, and her leaves, each one.
For though her leaves would soon flutter away,
They chuckled in this Autumn day,
Whispering each to one another,
Golden, red, orange, clung to their mother.
Moments were flying, Autumn was here,
The season was changing and winter was near.
By Betty Jo Legros Kelley
9/30/2020
I relish sparring repartee of clever quips...
Particularly, when voicing and/or
writing bon mots doth betake
chuckling clownlike me
rumbled stilled skin,
and e'en rouses
this mummified corpse
(asleep for bajillion years)
among sleepers awake,
where mine inside belly
doth pleasantly ache
jollity the best medicine
most thus spoke Zarathustra,
asper nonpareil persona
American radio broadcaster
Doctor Demento would attest,
one need not buy,
nor spend real or "FAKE"
money, yet brilliant come
back (as averred by
unnamed modest chap)
sweeter than New York cheesecake
moist definitely more
delectable than grubstake
jamming gobstopper with
yodels, ring dings,
or mouth size edible
chocolate candied drake,
a propensity for parrying
thrusts humorously recently
adopted, though occasionally
embarrass self,
and perhaps I might
momentarily even forsake
such wordplay, but
honing humorous turns
of phrases come roaring
back to partake, and
appease simple pleasure
inexplicably to satiate
passion with English
Language and slake
unquenchable thirst
experiencing euphoria,
vis a vis yours truly
melding, jump/kick starting,
forging, distilling
reasonable rhyme
(albeit short lived) giddy
as if I won sweepstake
this newfound affinity
with whittling words
manifested during opaque
throes of fatherhood,
when ceaseless parental
demands sought fast break
from learning to
accommodate lest stressful
overwhelming anguish
found me undertake
king oft times frazzled state,
where among great
anonymous dead poets
society, posthumous renown
would be small consolation
for widowed missus,
whose then two little girls,
(now grown to womanhood)
would inconsolably shake
for ever and anon drowning
their sweet sorrows,
where profuse tears
engender lachrymose lake.
Shitty is such a cute little word
I chuckle each time I hear it
Even words like crappy or poopy
Really don't even come near it
Shitty is such a silly expression
Who was first to utter this phrase
Some poor soul who ws really ticked
Or a dude describing his malaise
Shitty can turn conversations to fun
Serious things take on a new light
When someone utters "that was shitty"
To describe an unpleasant night
Shitty's not used by sophisticated folks
They find it vulgar and naughty
If one of their kids utters that word
They're punished and end up all snotty
Shitty is such a humorous word
Can't help chuckling when I peruse it
But after giving it much consideration
This ain't the best place to use it!
© Jack Ellison 2013
No hate mail please! LOL
[ Poet’s Note : This is a Companion Poem to my
I AM : 2025 poem ]
“essence in naked soul cannot
evolve Spirit or It’s quest for life eternal
form as veil is mandatory to experience
truth, for every fractal of Great All”
Poet
______________________
through aeons I traversed timelines
dimensions, conversed across realms
realities merged my cloak of bliss
rainbow coloured surged
down from Purest of Pure at His
injunction to experience with
experiment creative powers
~ intellect from higher to lower
wider to narrow — criss-crossing
mind acquired desires, missions
magnetic in hunger to achieve
conceive ~ enfleshed it meshed
wisdom neglected or perfected
for to journey back Home soul
needs ego’s evolving fractal face
density’s grace in cloaks of class
culture, gender, shadows, endless configurations, admirations
sensuous touches fire, water, air, earth
hunger, satiation, poverty, wealth
health, sickness - form is norm, witness
embellished in garments of choice it ascends ladders of sagacity ~ how else to transmute accumulated debits-credits but via robing then disrobing ?
peeling chosen garbs, it fingers light as dark,
vice versa - coin flips dips magnetic
Spirit is infinite form-formlessness
Supreme chuckling creative game —-
ONENESS all the same
Amid the delight arrived the sound
A tenderly mauve drop on ground
It was a large flower from a tree
unknown to me
And consequently
Stepped in tiny flowers of joy in my eyes
Obviously I looked up and there stood the sky
Pure blue
Like your milieu
Looking at me
Listening to my sounds of glee
From my mouth and lips and tongue
Aided by my cheerful lung
As at the time
Thumb and index finger of mine
Held the orange popsicle
Chuckling sounds were blossoming
In the dancing taste buds
The rhythm stops
As a horse gallops there in the field
A build up of sound collage
From tree shrills a nightingale
Before I finish perceiving the music
My ears were drawn to the giggles
From the revolving beauty wheel
A crimson feel in my breath
Life and life everywhere
Not a shadow of death
These images of sound came in a procession
Of golden past
In the moonlit ship a lovely mast
In my today's meditation
Which now is shattered by
The successive sounds of calling bell
Newspaper milk bread domestic aid
Honking horns from vehicular traffic
Clang bang clash crash
Gnash and thrash
Loud speaker blaring cheap music
All mortar and brick
No gondola in a creek
Look for a poem in web portals
You will come across
Camels at the window
Seeking entry through a shadow
No seagull
As I am forced to end my meditation
I look in void and try to understand
Well, this is perhaps
The cost of civilization
October 29, 2017
In response to Eve Roper's Nice Contest
: The Sounds of the Past