Long Coughed Poems
Long Coughed Poems. Below are the most popular long Coughed by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Coughed poems by poem length and keyword.
"We're going to need a bigger fig leaf."
Proclaimed the teacher to her staring class
As the model removed the last of his attire.
A collective, almost silent gasp
and the clatter of a fallen brush on parquet floor
confirmed this to be true.
Among the downcast eyes of most
was an accusing glance from pink-faced girl
to blushing secret lover.
Others scanned the body top to toe;
some fixed their gaze;
not all upon the model's eyes.
The over-fondling of a brush,
the squeezing squirting of thick paint from tube
A pencil slowly rotated in a mouth;
gestures, lost of innocence,
in steamy, thickening room.
A closeted sigh.
A wistful moan.
The heavy silence broke;
"As you may have guessed," the teacher coughed
"The subject for your sketch today is Adam."
This or That, Vol 11 Poetry Contest Fig Leaf, placed 3rd
Sponsored by: Edward Ibeh
Date wrote: 31st March 2022
Anxious as a tunnel, or ditch, or lost homework.
As a plate of burnt lemon, chewed up.
I have enough brain waves with electricity soundlessly moving.
And they have enough rambling, tumbling, grumbling.
Anxious as a grocery bag filled with,
Endless grapefruit turned into spite,
It’s all flaky and musty,
Like an insect who has dark, groaning eyes.
Anxious as underground.
Who knows what happens in the core?
Never eat old wires from a kind neighbor.
How tasty.
Anxious.
Ate all my insects from my plate and coughed a bit.
Head first as any other day.
You know where anxiety comes from?
The cookies that tasted so good, almost like cookies.
It’s been around for decades.
That old pond and all.
Photo albums with no time to cool down.
You know why I’m anxious?
Ask the electrician.
He knows where all those wires went.
And why my insides flicker.
Today I stopped to smell a rose
And got a fairy in my nose.
She buzzed her little fairy wings
She kicked and punched and other things.
It kind of tickled as she fought
But all her struggling was for naught.
Like glue my boogies held her there
Her tiny frame lodged in my nare.
Some pixie dust she threw therein
And though she tried, she could not win.
It turns out I’m allergic, see
To all that dust she threw on me.
I hacked and coughed and then I wheezed
I snorted, sniffled…even sneezed
And yet despite those awful fits
Up in my nose, the fairy sits.
A nasal home where she must stay
Until she figures out a way
to climb down and my nostril breach…
She’s just too deep for me to reach.
So next time when you hear them say
to smell the roses on your way,
Recall the fairy in my sniffer
And know that my advice may differ.
05/01/15
Once I had a little car.
I loved her oh so much,
But she was murdered by a man,
Who drove a big Dodge truck.
I looked around and finally found,
A car to take her place.
Who knew behind her pretty face,
The engine'd been laid waste.
She coughed and choked and gagged until,
She spit up chunks of carbon.
My husband bought her anyway.
He said that could be pardoned.
He said it was a minor thing.
He'd fix it right away.
It turned into a major bill,
That wouldn't go away.
It spent more time in the garage,
Than it did on the road,
And we were told to sell it soon,
For soon we'd need it towed.
Whoever'd worked under the hood,
For certain must be manic,
For from the looks of things in there,
He was no mechanic.
I felt so down, I'd spent so much,
This thing could not be worse.
I felt for sure that in this car,
I drove under some curse.
The ties broke as I drove it home.
I went right in the ditch.
I swear before we bought this car,
It was owned by a witch.
Actually what happened when the ties broke I was driving home on the back roads to keep it out of trouble. Suddenly the steering went all weird on me and I jumped a ditch and took out about 100yds. of some poor farmer's fence, barely missed runnning over a dog and finally made it home dragging about half a mile of barbed wire tangled under the car.
That tore it.
I didn't want that car anymore and refused to drive it again.Couldn't anyway. The ties were gone.
For Driving Me Crazy Contest by Paula Swanson
The first day when she felt discomfort hit,
she coughed and found it difficult to speak,
but quelled all fears and faced the day with grit,
although her voice was then a high-pitched squeak.
The second day her health was even worse,
with throat enflamed by her post-nasal drip.
She forged ahead because she is a nurse,
and her conclusion it was not the grip.
The third day was the worst with cough and sneeze,
along with sinus drainage uncontrolled.
She took her pills while breathing with a wheeze,
convinced she suffered from a summer cold.
But now she’s feeling better, talking more,
improving and retreating from death’s door.
I am the virus
that plagues the air
my SUV purposely racing
the highway
choking the morning sun
You are the virus
With a misguided search for the truth
as humanity cries in protest
in false advertisement
Like a lie that will not lie down.
We are the real virus
As we covet this land
locust devouring our way
though our own existence
Our wants never ending
just a click away.
Forgetting this earth doesn’t’ belong to us
loaned to our mortality
with a debt our children cannot pay back.
Now earth is fighting back
fists balled tight
kicking and screaming
she coughed in our face
filling our lungs
with our own poison
for we have taken advantage
of a generous nature
Like spoiled brats
who had picked the old lady’s
flowers who lived next door
leaving her garden bare.
A spider sitting in the shower.
Just wanted to wash up for an hour.
But this spider is making me nervous.
I tried to shampoo but was feeling hard pressed.
Suddenly that spider jumped about.
I tried to splash him with water and almost started to shout.
I became brave enough to throw him onto the bathroom rug.
So this spider decided to shrug.
He was in the middle of his own shampoo.
And didn’t have a clue.
As to why he couldn’t use the body wash as well.
He just wanted some good smell.
So he simply sprayed himself with perfume.
Coughed a little at the fume.
And crawled into a crack in the early morning.
The water soon stopped pouring.
His spider friend wondered what went wrong.
This poor spider just wanted to enjoy the steam and sing a song.
But maybe tomorrow he can have such delight.
For now he is relaxing in this crack at daylight.
Spiders like to shower too.
They like to use the soap that is blue.
But humans don’t understand their needs.
That spiders have sweat that beads.
And no hands to turn on the faucet.
So today he has to do nothing and sit.
And eat his fly with traces of shampoo in his hair.
But it’s not all despair.
Tomorrow this person will be taking a bubble bath.
And I hope to join without any wrath!
There is always
a dull longing
that goes unlabelled
and hangs a layer or two
below a joy, a pang
somewhere in the soul
that can't be coughed up
or cut out, just endured.
A nonsense to the skeptic,
no more than perhaps
a twitch of an evolutionary
relic left unemployed within
the brain, now ossified
into an irritant jumping
across the boundaries
of our troubled sleep.
Whatever its origin,
it's always there
be it a hollow left in our psyche
from an umbilical when severed
by God or a buffering problem
in our brain,
the longing never leaves.
We try and quench it
with beauty, love, art
and myth but it remains
unfulfilled, as if a speck
of the infinite resides within
us all, that can absorb
everything we have
and then ask for more.
Cicely Catherine Charlotte,
Child of a cosmopolitan century,
Captain of the cruise vessel
Cooling its boilers in the cove.
Cicely dispensing catnip
creates crazy feline
cuckoo climbing, jumping with
crack me up comedy, provided free.
Conjuring cat creativity
catnip can’t cleverly control;
calamity aboard a cruise ship.
In crystal dreams of cat-hood
colors writhe in catnip fields
containing cat-antics, a
cabal of cat’tastic
conjuring cats.
Consequentially, the not-so-cute problem
cast upon the ships crew
causes a great cleaning bill
cleaving its way into my cruise line
capital when, cute catnip filled kitties
cast cat-cookies and crap on the carpets.
Cleaning is by no means cathartic;
coughed up catnip-furballs, neither.
Even worse when cats like eating Cajun food;
coloring the ships carpets a saffron red.
Crafty cleaners, I suppose
could create some conquering detergent but, the
cost could easily run sky high,
for calamity cat’s cursed ills, so
cruise ships might best consider not
allowing cruises with cats.
There are many kinds of wars some make you die some make you cry
when your far away suffused in gunpowder, you learn to live and lie
A red letter day arrived, their baby was born blue, cold and stillborn
he sat in the bunker away from atomic blasts grief soaked and forlorn
Jim walked in and released his gunny sack " dam the war " what you got
stoic and in shock he wheezed, coughed took a drag of cigarette, wot?
There are many kinds of wars, some make you die some make you cry
today was not a day for tears, with a mendacious smile he prayed to die .
July 20, 2022
Sponsor Faraz Ajmal
Contest Name Tears of a Valiant Soldier