Long Costume Poems
Long Costume Poems. Below are the most popular long Costume by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Costume poems by poem length and keyword.
A wiggly holiday bundle of energy
Snickers, my pup, wears a Rudolf outfit for fun--
Annoyed with long antlers,
she grinds around
ripping an outlandish costume,
then fiercely bobbing her tail;
while kids stick red bells along a furred neck:
Our dachshund yelps
and fumbles on stacked presents,
as the camera rolls --- a keepsake of eve’s laughter…
But weenie goes hysterical from the raucous
causing mayhem under the ornate lights—
A zoom, a wham,
Snickers digs into wrapped tokens
unraveling boxes,
oh now tarnished from her hunt—
Till slashing that itchy reindeer crotch,
dear doggie fetches an opened gift—
a costly vase to fill up her pee!
.........................
12/28/2018
Christmas Pets - Writing Challenge December 2018
Sponsor: Dear Heart
The man who hides no secrets
doesn’t whisper in corners
or polish his lies
before handing them out.
He drinks his coffee black,
says what he thinks,
and doesn’t care if the room goes quiet
after the words land.
People lean in when he talks.
Not because he’s loud,
but because he’s real.
Because there’s no performance.
No costume.
No carefully rehearsed bull crap.
His opinions are respected
because they come from scars,
from nights on dirty mattresses,
from watching friends disappear,
from surviving things that would fold
most men in half.
He doesn’t pretend to be wise.
He just tells the truth
and lets it stand there naked.
Some here hate him for it.
Some here fear him.
But everyone here listens.
Because in a world choking on lies,
an honest man
sounds like thunder.
Oh, Clown at the abyss;
We’re not laughing at you;
Not funny tis true, you're falling
This we do insist;
a comic entertainer one in a circus, you're falling
wearing a traditional costume and exaggerated makeup.
Lo! Grecian fall unsophisticated rustic;
Falling...
Zanni yonder foolish fool rustique;
Keeper of, costume competitions;
Zany fool jester falling so fustic,
Clown at the abyss;
We’re not laughing at you;
Not funny tis true;
This we do insist;
Not laughing
Clown falling down into the opera pit so mystique,
In addition, while in transition stamp;
Dressed White face, Auguste and Tramp;
All three clowns take a bow fall into the abyss
And just what is this
Still you falling...
Abyss a place where rustic fools fold and fall
Clown at the abyss;
Down into an clevis;
You falling...
We’re not laughing at you;
Not funny tis true;
This we do insist;
You’re a clown
And you’ve falling down;
No one laughing anymore;
Cause ya, not funny you’re a bore;
Harlequin comedian;
Merry Andrew takes also a bow;
As the demon boo those falling clowns;
You see when you’re not funny you fall;
Clown at the abyss;
You won’t be placed on a second stage call;
You’re a clown
And you’ve falling down;
No one laughing anymore;
Clown, clown at the abyss;
2/29/20
For Clown at the Abyss Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Kai Michael Neumann
Homemade things are sometimes best,
But often they are not.
Knowing when to hit the stores
Keeps moods from getting hot.
Want to bake a cake? You heed
Directions to the letter;
But like as not, the bakery
Has cakes that taste much better.
Stir a pot of sauce for hours,
Like the cook you are.
Don’t be shocked when it’s as good
As what comes in a jar.
I tried my best today to make
A costume for a play,
My knickers getting in a knot
As hours ticked away.
So now I’ll head to shops set up
In time for Halloween;
I’ll find the perfect costume
For a paltry wad of green.
It won’t be as creative,
Where I’d wallow in my vanity,
But I’ll get great results
And also maybe keep my sanity!
Being a parsel-tongue, I knew I was Slytherine, of course.
Dressing in scales and slithering would give it away though.
So I dressed as my patronus, seventeen-hands high stallion horse,
Entering the Great hall with mask that had a green neon glow.
Hermione was not easily found, but I spotted Ron’s hair right away.
He was attempting to perform a small spell to help out a Ravenclaw.
Hufflepuffs were clumping around, not mingling, like every day.
Draco Malfoy, my nemesis is a guy that I almost immediately saw.
Why do we allow mudbloods into Hogwarts? He was demanding.
He is a broken record, that Neanderthal, full of hate if you ask me.
He is always politicizing, and his motives are full of under-handing.
I could wait until this night was over, no one here I wanted to see.
A small Slytherin slithered past me wearing a snake costume. I laughed.
Hagrid came by with two dragons, which were not legal, I will bet.
Ron said “You knew me, didn’t you? I should have come as a giraffe.
No, I liked. You had me fooled. Hermione walked by then with her pet.
When did she get a grampoodle? I asked my pal whose face was red.
I did not know she had one, she probably conjured it herself, he said.
Hermione turned and gave him that withering look she has mastered.
A new Gryffindor recruit threw up on the next chair, he was totally plastered.
Hotel love
I arrived at the uploaded village in the north, which had once been
a working hamlet, until famous people bought property there.
More people followed, as did estate agents the parish became
an in-place with posh cafes and restaurants with French names
where the original inhabitants could not afford to live in what was
left was a postcard idyll and a fake Tudor.
As I was booking in when my ex-girlfriend burst in full of eager talk
she was going to a restaurant where a well know singer would
appear and do as singers do sing.
In the right light and clever make-up, she looked about 37
it happened; I knew she was 54 but was not going to tell.
A young man she called darling carried her leather suitcase.
I was here to visit my daughter, her two noisy children and
her husband, who spoke of investment and paying taxes.
I ate wiener schnitzel, drank a bottle of wine, and served
by a woman dressed in a sexed-up folkloric costume
went to bed; my ex-girlfriend had a room next to mine
made a clamour when she arrived with her young man,
but after a while, things simmered down.
In the morning, when she came down for breakfast, she
as alone, not for her to let a lover see her in the morn
I called her name and asked her to sit with me and drank
coffee, her hands trembled, needed a drink but
I got her to eat a croissant.
Up in my room, drink in hands, she had a moment
of clarity, my life is a mess, she said it is your fault
for getting old and bald; slept in my bed for hours
getting up, going to her room to put on her young face.
I didn’t get to see my daughter and her children
had to drive my exes home before she got into
more trouble.
It is my fault she killed herself. Crazy talk. Nonsensical logic.
My first thought is to say, “Yes, it is SO your fault,” and roll my eyes.
Luckily, I have had life-training, so I am wisely silent, keeping my
Traitorous eyes, hidden and down, as they are non-controllable.
If I had called her back,
If I had texted her.
If I had agreed to wear the bunny costume.
If I had not argued with her,
If I had realized,
If I had noticed,
If I had thought,
If I had suspected,
If I had….
It is not your fault, it is probably not her fault either.
The only thing right now that might work
Is a gentle shoulder tap, or a hug.
She is not a hugger, but I am.
I put my arms out, and she turns into a 4-year-old.
I hold her as she sobs, sure it is her fault.
I am so glad I have had life-training.
It is not your fault, never works.
Serves as gasoline on the fire.
If I had gone over there,
If I had hidden the gun,
If I had hidden the pills,
Yes, it is your fault.
Boldly I exhume exclusion, a badge of sacrifice
Milestones shunned, money’s usual manoeuvre
Cultural flimsy stronghold, servant’s fiscal price
Top tier requires slaves toil all day for approval
Nonetheless, pleasingly, I hail our lucky country
Offers safety, anonymity, hovel unacknowledged
No need to solidify alliances, desperately hungry
Primed pilferers for immediate advantage pillage
Supplementing streetscapes bolster unsold soles
Trove tumbledryer drums cook my new costume
Accesses babyboomer tower, to fire escape stole
Secure deep sleep from moonless cement room
Adverse to version of
us who refuse to assimilate
A new season - Winter
Begins today
The masquerade ball is fun for all
This was said by my master, in a voice not small
I was not convinced as she stuffed me into a collar
I looked like a the biggest clown in Gentleman’s holler
My cousin Jeffery was dressed up in a costume too
Why do we have to do this? He asked our cousin Lou.
Just go along, she said, it’s only one night of the year.
This might turn into a regular trend though, is what I fear.
First it is Halloween, then in November they dress us up like a turkey.
In December we’ll be snowmen. What is next? Asked Lurky.
Lurky’s voice of reason made us all tear off our silly outfits.
We chased each other out the door after tearing them to bits.
Rose you were such a wise lady and a wonderful friend
I continued to visit you almost to the bitter end
Other friends abandoned you because you were so frail
But I continued visit and see your cheeks pinched and pale
How I miss our chats, we’d eat biscuits and drink tea
You were such a wonderful friend to me
You gave me a hydrangea, its flowers a pretty blue
So never a day passes when I don’t think of you
If we could meet again for one more day
We’d share the gossip and laugh our cares away
I’ll never forget when you taught me to line dance
Prancing around your lounge to songs of sweet romance
You practiced reiki and spiritual healing
You’d help me with issues that I was concealing
I remember that Christmas party, you dressed as a Christmas pud
You had me in hysterics the costume you made was oh so good
Breast cancer stole you away and bitter tears I cried
For we were away on holiday at the time you died
Your anniversary gift in our garden still grows
I think of you every day my lovely friend Rose
Contest - Just one more day
Sponsored by Laura Loo
12~12~15