Long Chuffed Poems
Long Chuffed Poems. Below are the most popular long Chuffed by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Chuffed poems by poem length and keyword.
join the club mumbling at him now staring still elegant deer like mammal in a corner he or she lacks horns lengthy legs too he or she staring into the far distant past at a great age at all he or she’s most prized ancient objects he or she starts fast putting on weight I turn away wobbling too much for me hate it giddy a bit especially the slapping one small ants herds he or she across the room to the back I think she or he will be slaughtered hamburger patties galore gulp giddy gone a water-repellent hip length jacket with hood lying on the seat other side of my table hadn’t noticed was practising neck cranes when I saw it doesn’t deserve at all to think of excuses to not be worn in the rain! annoyed with it looks like its owner has decided to not give it one more chance! wish its owner sent it to unnamed big town rumours like boils won’t ever find its way back here! salt shaker two mobile feelers on its noggin nibbling on lobster particular other creatures suddenly so sad so left out throw myself sideways onto the floor like a sidewinder out of the coffee shop
by a battery deposit box nosey rude arrogant big hipped loser teacher always red cheeks trying to improve some of her nice obedient never-say-what-they-think-&-feel students calling them stupid stupid stupid they’re waiting patiently for her big change oh please share something nice about yourself before it’s too late!
across the floor railing wait patiently those horrible feelings often bathe in go after awhile on floor a positive electrode in an electrolytic valve both coated with oil as a symbol of consecration I vent about carrying unappreciated anguish the levels the price everyone pays feelings countless to not be considered invalid I feel they’re both responsible so I will answer to them they at the same time to help me reply respond to feel better relieve it all offer to smear me with a shielding oxide film by electrolysis no kindly I’m chuffed by the thought they nod okay I don’t mention I’m sure think know nothing is capable of relieving my anguish they nod okay the two start talking about the expanse around the South Pole I ask them how many paper sheets wander there? and they look at me like I don’t actually know Thousands they go Oh I go
I used to be a curate in, and Beaky
named a North York’s town
while taking a sip of his beer
and eying the company round.
We knew there was a story coming.
We could tell by the look on his face
and the way he squirmed and wiggled
his backside comfortably into place.
There were quite a few cremations there
and I was baffled and just didn’t know
why every hearse cab seemed to be
a travelling soft fruit show.
There’d be a basket or bowl or bucket
full of finest orchard fare;
but they were always empty
when that hearse left there.
When I‘d served my time,
was felt to be a man of trust
they let me into the secret
and I laughed near fit to bust.
This was thrifty Yorkshire
and nowt went to waste
so they used the constant heat
to brew some wines of taste.
I remember my feelings of pride
that very first time
I tried the first sip of
my own crematorium wine.
The labourer’s worthy of his hire and
they‘d all have been chuffed if they knew
their final act of departure
enabled a fine home brew.
Beaky finished his pint
accepted appreciative grins,
muttering it’s nearly time
whose going to get them in??
To The Rev Kenneth George Beake
R.I.P. Ken - we had some good times together.
The little girl as a heart condition and her mum and dad as asked for people to send her a xmas card, She loves opening nice mail, and her mum reads them to her this is made for you poetry soup softys, done mine and sent it below is my poem I put inside , Im sure she would be chuffed to get mail from around the world. must get a bigger smile. ( details where to send the xmas card and links below my effort below, sent it today ) And If a premium member would blog this for me that would be great more people will see it
Princess Isabell it will soon be Xmas time
Rudolph's got a sledgeful of presents
and they are all in your name.
Santa checks his list, As Isabella been good or bad.
Humm, he's not too sure so rings her mum and dad.
Now come on Santa don't be daft.
This is Isabell she is never bad.
So Santa shakes Rudolph's reins
And says , see you on Xmas day .
The Address to send cards to is:
Isabell Salat
2 Howes Croft
Castle Vale
Birmingham
B35 7EL
England
https://www.facebook.com/Princessisabellheartwarrior/?ref=br_rs&hc_ref=SEARCH
To the skies...cries of have we sinned..the seasons spinned...winter grinned as before it’s really beginned...spring’s been sneakily binned..
That bitter wind does cheekily blow...delivers tingling..slivers of mulled wine mingling shivers..oh and..shed loads of snow..
You know it is nature's calling card...as the bleached flurries hurriedly dart. ...shards of frosty farts falling hard....
Slippery slurries beached...frippery start to beseeched.. billow wisps like waspish wafts of blossoming willow..
Chuffed to see a lush plush pillow..fluffed...puffed..buffed..kept aloft from mush.. with crystals soft..silky..stuffed
A natural ebb and flow gush...a smattering...then a rush...splattering to and fro..
Winter’s web.. gleaming coats of teeming white bright light beaming notes...
Dreams of fairies schemes….streams across mystic moats..dairy prairies floats...
Scoops of snowy soup spills..stoops and swoops…down the hills..droops off daffodil troops..
Everything swathed..bathed in wintry tiding...the sodden sky pours... hints of sly footprints trodden hiding…
Huddling crystal clusters grasping.. riding..gliding…deciding detours…
Blizzard wizard’s rasping rally…cuddling..clasping.. contours of the valley floor..
Last post gong of our winter host boast.. sounds like a love song..
In this Proustian getaway... adore the festooned foray..
Marooned yet cocooned…this wild hideaway soon shunning..
Being wreathed in bleakly stunning cunning..
Turns back to being shrouded..sheathed in meekly clouded mild...
Christmas memories come flooding back
Just a few small gifts in my Santa sack
In the toe there’s an orange and a sugar mouse
I’d hide the mouse to scare mum in the house
Some chocolate coins wrapped in gold foil
And some coloured balls containing bath oil
A box of jelly slices in orange and yellow
In truth I much preferred mashmallow!
Larger presents are piled beneath the tree
Always a board game for all the family
My favourite gift was such a surprise
The cutest teddy with sweet brown eyes
I hugged my teddy, and named him Fritz
I can’t stop grinning, I’m chuffed to bits
A Christmas Gift Memory Poetry Contest
Sponsored by BJ Legros Kelley
12/18/21
Today started happily,
For this chuffed Old Duck
When she looked at Poetry Soup
She could not believe her luck
She was the poet of the day
Can you imagine that?
She was so surprised and pleased.
She waddled, and she quacked.
She fluffed up her feathers,
And dusted her beak
Still quacking loudly
As she sat down on a seat.
She picked up her pen,
Because she wanted to write
To her Poetry Soup friends,
To show her delight,
On her win of the poet of the day
Now cannot find the words to say.
Thank you, in an Old Duck way
So I will quack adieu
With sincere, heartfelt, Thanks to you.
PS This is one of those times
when words are not enough.
Take care, Shirley
Sitting upside down in the car
On its roof and well concealed
By the hedge it just leapt to
Land upside down in this field
The lesson being learned
When going round a bend
Trying to pick up a ciggie
Can cause unfortunate end
It seemed all quite peaceful
In an ending somehow right
To what had been a memorable
And very worthy Stag Night.
Deciding to respond to
The penetrating shout
Of are you all alright
We decided to climb out.
Good Lord but I’m chuffed
This beery voice said
I saw you jump the hedge
And I though you were dead.
We stood around a while
For a laugh and a joke
Each one of us enjoying
A much needed smoke.
Can I give you a lift he said
It’s the least I can do
I can’t wait for the police
‘Cos I’ve been drinking too.
A country road mid 1960’s
A cold and bitter night
Isolated and deserted and
Not a person or house in sight.
So he drove us back to Bert’s place
Which wasn’t really very far
And Bert had to wake and tell his dad
That he’d gone and crashed his car.
A good solid early1960’s model
And although we got a bad fright
I think that’s what helped us all survive
The rigours and vigours of Bert’s Stag Night
Claire won 5 medals at the Barcelona Paras,
In 1992, where she took the 50m freestyle gold,
To set a World Record, and in the 100m pass,
Still freestyle, she secured a warm silver fold,
A silver for the 100m backstroke and 4x100 relay,
Which made her extremely proud, chuffed no end,
So she only took up para-triathlon 2008, recently,
And in 2008, the Worlds, she won the gold blend.
In 2013 at the ETU Para-triathlon Europeans,
In Antalya in Turkey, Claire won the solid silver,
And in 2014, the ITU Worlds with London johns,
Claire came home 3rd, a bronze to weather.
2015 and the ITU Worlds again, in Edmonton,
Canada, and Clare truly proved again to be,
Successful at the triathlon with consolidation,
Of another bronze medal, podium victory to see.
That same year in Buffalo City at the Worlds,
She won the title, and at the GBR Nationals,
She came 2nd, also at the ITU London Worlds,
Then 3rd at the ETU Geneva European stiles.
1st in Detroit at the ITU Worlds, and then 2nd,
In Penrith in 2016 at more ITU Worlds again;
She finished 4th in Lisbon, Portugal - her bend,
Towards swimming, biking and running did pen.
She was born without a left forearm, prosthetic,
And was a Chartered Accountant. She reads,
Watches box sets, loving West Wing frenetic,
And hates mice. She has English Lit MA seeds.
Burn the walls, build the bridges,
For the gap is wide asunder;
Destroy the hedge of bitterness,
And remove the big barrier.
A person sits in the nook,
Alone and lonely in ages;
For he makes many fences
Instead of linking passages.
Loneliness can never add
Even a single second to one's life;
It rather decreases his strength
To skunk the pain and strife.
Sin makes man unhappy,
Though at first he enjoys;
Little does he understand
His relation with God it destroys.
Behold the reckless people,
Either young or old;
Driven by blunder or error,
They depart from the fold.
What a chuffed and joyful one,
He who walks in the right path;
Shrugging off the wrong ways
To avoid God's ire and wrath.
Gladly must we bury iniquity,
And turn it into ashes;
Let us return to the Lord,
Burn the walls, build the bridges.
Sitting upside down in the car
On its roof and well concealed
By the hedge it just leapt to
Land upside down in this field
The lesson being learned,
When going round a bend
Trying to pick up a ciggie
Can cause unfortunate end.
It seemed all quite peaceful
In an ending somehow right
To what had been a memorable
And very worthy long Stag Night.
Deciding to respond to
The penetrating shout
Of are you all alright
We decided to climb out.
Good Lord but I’m chuffed
This beery voice said
I saw you jump the hedge
And I though you were dead.
We stood around a while
For a laugh and a joke
Each one of us enjoying
A much needed smoke.
Can I give you a lift he said
It’s the least I can do
I can’t wait for the police
‘Cos I’ve been drinking too.
A country road mid 1960’s
A cold and bitter night
Isolated and deserted and
Not a person or house in sight.
No such things as mobile phones,
No real need for the police to know
So by mutual consent we decided
It was a good time as any for us to go,
So he drove us back to Bert’s place
Which wasn’t really very far
And Bert had to wake and tell his dad
That he’d gone and crashed his car.