Long Couth Poems
Long Couth Poems. Below are the most popular long Couth by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Couth poems by poem length and keyword.
To you my precious Valentine,
I raise my glass of wine!
Tho' you have driven me to drink,
'Tis you I truly love (I think)!
You are so lovely to me my dear.
I shall always want you very near!
Tho' you have the couth of a battering ram,
You're still my darling Valentine, madame!
Happy Valentine's Day to you my sweet!
Ours is a romance with love replete.
But when whispering sweet nothings in my ear,
Please refrain from burping up your beer!
Happy Valentine's Day to you my beloved wife.
Without you 'twould be a very dismal life.
I'm looking forward to romantic years ahead,
Tho' the dye of your hair be purple, black or red!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
(c) 2015 All Rights Reserved
Entry for Carol Eastman's "Humor Contest"
My long-sufferin' Mother tried to teach me the rudiments of social graces,
So as not to make a fool of myself at fancy affairs and such other places.
But even so, at the school prom I splattered sauce on the tux I had rented!
So much fer impressing my date who thought me somewhat demented!
I can still remember Mom's admonitions as if it were yesterday:
"Say please, thank you and pardon me to those you meet along the way."
"The napkin ain't used fer blowin' yer nose or as if washin' yer face."
"Keep it short and to the point should you be asked to say the grace."
"Keep yer elbows off the table, sit up straight with one hand on yer lap."
"Don't hog conversation and if you've nothin' sane to say, clam yer trap."
"Learn to use the silverware properly so as not to be disgraced."
"Tell the hostess what a fine meal it was (tho' not necessarily to yer taste)."
"Don't start eatin' 'til the hostess begins and don't guzzle too much wine."
"Always help the lady on yer right to be seated before you begin to dine."
"Open yer car door and other doors fer ladies and they'll appreciate that."
"Rise when ladies or elders enter the room and remember to tip yer hat."
"Offer yer arm to sweet old ladies and assist them to cross the street."
"Tell moms their babes are cute (even if not) but be very discreet."
Mom's sage advice was well taken but today it seems that it was all for naught,
Since many folks ain't got no couth or respect nor behave as they ought!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
(c) 2015 All Rights Reserved
Your eyes are alive with a light…
That shines like the stars in the night,
Sharing twinkling tales of delight,
Reawakening dreams filled with insight.
Your lips are like beautiful blooms…
That caress my cheek with their glumes,
Reminding me of memories in classroom,
Encouraging me to always consume.
Your skin is alive with fresh colors of youth…
That seem painted with blue and green truths,
Spreading hues of yellow and orange sooth,
Shades of blush and flushed couth.
You are wise, wonderful and warm…
Always aware of my hopes and my cares.
You make me feel certain I can undertake anything…
And come through with flying colors.
Close up, on the smooth couth
meretricious pod, vibrantly
violating my optics violently,
even through the microscope.
Its swarthy stare is maliciously
resplendent and evoked from
parsimony.
Nature's beauty is suicidal.
pulchritude through lens,
but a spike to the neck.
Even in risk, identified ignorance is ignored.
veracity is a voodoo doll,
if you toss it out it re-emerges like
a comet
relentlessly.
the microscope aggrandize on its perilous magnificent shock.
like an arboreal boat it is shielded but
pops in agitation, adjudicating what
personality to adorn.
It feels like a placid charade,
for toxicity comes with respect
and beliefs, adherence.
just like a horse belch loyalty
and a den of destruction
her seeds swell calmly in hot dosage bean.
opulently lethal.
I see her dancing high on the bed of pleasure
through the microscope, with feets enveloped in predicament and her lips covered in crimson ichor.
A queen, so clean, a routine as green.
Oh Hillary, dear Hillary what did I hear
Your emails were given without any care
The powers that be have relented this truth
To empower your foes with the absence of couth
Oh Hillary, dear Hillary what did you say
More "glittering generalities" one could absorb in a day
Just listening and knowing that the general facts
Have no fidelity or sincerity when down to brass tacks
Oh Hillary, dear Hillary your words should take heed
Perverting their meaning by twisting their deed
To make claims of human kindness with your heart fully filled
With the ice of deceit and a soul that is nil
Oh Hillary, dear Hillary you seem larger than life
But the facts of the matter are way more than rife
Your little mind, soul and heart is piteous at best
To think you can fool all of us is one naive, shortsighted and ill-advised test!
Oh Hillary, dear Hillary you're like a chick out of its nest
Your posture cannot cure, nor your clothes deceive the best
Of the denizens of state that require you to be strong
When deep down inside you indistinctly don't belong.
The thought weighs heavy on you,
Unworthiness is no mere common flu,
Spreading throughout your flesh and bones,
Beating you with your own cast stones,
Fallacious sickness hurled upon your soul,
You contemplate your toll,
For you think only you can pay,
The brain a malleable clay,
Imperfections pointed out by society,
Causing depression and anxiety,
But to many, a hidden truth,
There is the Holy One's couth,
A covenant made in blood,
Preventing another flood,
He has and will bare this weight,
Do not forget Jesus' state,
He carried the cross for you,
No matter what you do,
Do not let His acts be in vain,
This unworthiness must not remain.
Folks more sophisticated than me might say I ain't got no couth, I suppose,
But I ain't a fan of Bach, Liszt and Mozart nor the music they compose!
Spare me the screechin' violins, growlin' cellos and twitterin' piccolos,
The rumblin' bassoons, the thunderin' timpani and the odious oboes!
Seems the woodwinds, strings, brass and percussion do their own thing,
Renderin' ramblin' and atonal piffle - no pleasure to mine ear doth it bring!
I'd rather listen ad infinitum to Elva Ruby Miller's shrill and off-key renditions,
Than suffer the agony of a two-hour symphony by professional musicians!
The pulpit of the womb
Is not the alter of the devil’s tomb
It’s not the deception of
a dichotomy of love
Death holds its breath
While a world calls evil good
And life death
The snuffing out of
All the naturally conceived of
The plagiarizing of
God’s creative wisdom
Grieve not the Holy Spirit
As the Spirit hovered Creation’s waters
So He hovers The Church
Seeing to it that The Body is birthed
The path of the pro-death agenda
Leads to a place He will send ya
And yes its ambiguity of my part
To call it a place
The place that is in the pro-death heart
All the hate that is spawned
As it rises on a dead world that’s dawned
The baby killers
Pornographic thrillers
Autonomous willers
Hollywood beguilers
And the common all the while-lers
Know its wrong but suppress the truth
Unrighteousness for couth
Let the Holy Spirit do within
Otherwise, it’s the unforgiveable sin
I go here, I go there
I can go anywhere
I talk to him, I talk to her
I am confident, that's for sure
I do this, I do that
I go where the adventure is at
I work hard, I work fast
I make big bucks, cold hard cash
I found someone, we settle down
We have some kids in a quiet town
We make some friends, we have good times
We have come to know life dahling as simply divine
The kids grow up then leave the home,
we find ourselves all alone
It's not like before, when in our youth
A little bit different, and done with more couth
One of us dies, who will be the first
No matter what, the others heart will burst
"I'll take it from here". we gently say
As we say goodbye at the end of that day.
Youth is Gone
By Franklin Price
3/30/2017
Youth is gone forever, and is never to return.
No matter how we wish it, a sorcerer's spell to yearn.
Sneaks up on us quite stealthily and quickly races by
With just the turning of a head and the blinking of an eye.
Although we wish for it again, forever it is gone
We are, what we lived life to be; a king or simple pawn.
The cards were dealt, the dice were tossed, the roulette wheel was spun.
We've walked the winding path of life, have, at times, both lost and won.
Were we good, or were we bad, did we help one another?
Did we raise a helping hand, to our sister and our brother?
Did we raise a family who respects their fellow man?
Can we look back proudly on our steps within the sand?
Even with some age on us, we have not reached the end.
We can still contribute to the world and to a friend.
It's not too late for us to change, if we're not who we like.
We can tell the bad in us to go and take a hike
Relight the light that lit your way from youth to age's hill
It may be a little tough, you can do it if you will.
Place your torch atop the hill, on the darkest sea to shine;
A guiding light for others who may follow in your line.
Although your youth is gone, and you're longer in the tooth,
Show you've learned diplomacy and a little bit of couth
Hug shoulders of both friend and foe and lend a helping hand
And the young and old together can help mend a broken land