Long Cream of the crop Poems
Long Cream of the crop Poems. Below are the most popular long Cream of the crop by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Cream of the crop poems by poem length and keyword.
I’m pinched, not sweet, and ferociously piqued!
A stomp of vines, my feet juiced red — and drunk.
Embossed my boss — his painted smile. He freaked.
Impertinence! I’d put up with his junk!
Worked extra hard to please this balding… (squeeze).
The constant drip...the bitter pills...my wrath.
No girl! No life! To serve this jerk...this sleaze!
I’ll pluck this fattened grape. His stink needs bath —
An hour long shower walloping...indeed!
I’m a great guy - no sense of humor mean.
This cream of the crop creep, he has no creed.
I’ll hire this donkey’s toot and shoot the scene.
But cheer this vat, I cure my awful state.
Conceive revenge, sour pittance for my hate.
8/13/2018
Mark Massey’s Sour Grapes Poetry Contest
8th place
*Embossed - hunted like an animal, to exhaustion
Gentlemen, raise your glass to the British institution,
Breeding the champagne elite with seamless execution
Exclusively tailored for the clotted cream of the crop
With privileged patrilineage as the firm backdrop
The bespoke cradle that nurtures elite evolution
Crafting leaders of Britain's unwritten constitution
Renowned for ‘hoorah’ high spirits and notoriety
Crowned on high pedestals in moments of sobriety
Vandalism explained briskly away
Upper class boys club spirits sashay
Entitlement says, "turn a blind eye"
The Club, “purely hearsay, by the by”
While the common personage may humbly sip tea
Tailcoats stained with joviality, champagnes spree
Aware the law will not have their ‘guts for garters’ *
In recognition of gab and bubbly barters
Once they graduate with the superior scroll
They enrol with honours on parliaments roll
Embracing all their fine manners and etiquette
Hogging the political scene, lest we forget
And through the vast ancient chambers and corridors
'Bully, Bully, Bully' seeps slyly through the pores
Where the brotherhood debates the law of the land
Holding a flute of the finest champagne to hand
*Guts for Garters – Meaning to punish severely
Date: 10/04/23
Contest: Bullingdon Boys
Sponsor: Joe Maverick
Lord your the center of my life
And your wonderful
A friend, the beginning and the end
CENTERFOLD
Your the middle yet on top
Your the flesh of my heart
And your love will never part
Your my cream of the crop
My love, my lot
Your my all N all, my...
CENTERFOLD
let the story be told
Cause you're so wonderful
Your grace is sufficient
You love is maximum
And your works have just begun
Lord your the center of my life
And your wonderful
A friend, the beginning and the end, you are my
CENTERFOLD
Your the middle yet on top
Your the flesh of my heart
And your love will never part
Your my cream of the crop
My love, my lot
Your my all N all, my...
CENTERFOLD
written words by James Edward Lee Sr.
08/17/17
I'm so happy I checked-out a recent e-mail from the Soup
By doing so, I was privileged to read some of Becca Teagan's
work, I know I may have gone over the top with my
little tribute, but I write what comes to me.
I never say this lightly ------"She's a MUST read"
You're far above that upper class
Unique among themselves
Most I view as Top Drawer Poets
But you my friend, Top Shelf
You're the bell of the ball
The cream of the crop
The tip of the tip
of the tipious top
The shine on the shoe
The stick in the tie
The ultimate answer
To that old question "Why?"
You're the crown on the Queen
The jewel of the Nile
You're Aces to me
Cause you write with such style
Don't shy when I say
You're the best of the best
I've strained all the soup
And I've read all the rest
You write like an Angel
With paper and pen
You know what to do
So, just do it again
Welcome to the inner sanctum of fear
All are invited to enjoy the show
No one can leave before it ends
You'll be frozen stiff before you go
Now sit back and cower in the dark
This tour of madness is about to begin
As your mind and body trembles and shakes
I'll watch closely with a contented grin
Peering deep into the depths of your soul
Your character flaws will rise to the top
I'll exploit all vunerabilities
Your weaknesses are the cream of the crop
With nowhere to run and no place to hide
You understand now my methods of doom
From my lofty perch I'm able to see
There's no one untouched left in the room
I hear your screams and relish your tears
Your bloodshot eyes are swollen with fright
As you slowly drift out like Zombies
I thank you all and wish all a goodnight
I’ve never given much thought, about the last train to Auschwitz
for indeed every train, was intended to be ones last,
Except for the guards, who sit atop the cattle cars
As the human livestock, slowly asphyxiates behind bars
not giving them a thought, or a care in the world
except maybe, what great jobs we have
Sit up here smoking, and joking, oblivious to the choking
Just shoot anything that try’s get off,
An absolute no brainer,
For only those without brains,
have no feelings or remorse
This one and only requirement, fully endorsed
Besides it keeps them away, from the Russian front
they’ve heard all the stories, about that hell hole
where they run over prisoners with tanks,
No thanks
Switch off out here, in the country air,
as the wind rushes through, aryan sun bleached hair
And the moans and groans continue, all very routine
Stench rises and falls, in wafts and palls
Quick Fritz look, Fräuleins in the fields wave and call
Raising up rifles, greetings from SS railway division to all
Cream of the crop, only room for special ones on top
Full stop!
Whistles shrill,
RAUS! RAUS! SCHNELL! SCHNELL!
Screams aloud, above the putrid smell
as the chimneys belch ash, over an indifferent hell
Bewildered cargo pours out
Protestations, my baby, my mummy, my daddy, is dead
The reply, a heavy truncheon blow, across the head
Get into line, you dirty swine
Selection process begins
Whilst guards have a chat and a grin
on the horizon a thunderous din
Russians are closing in.
Indeed this was the last train to Auschwitz
and now it’s pulling out
as the guards banter and shout
Hey Fritz! where you going to spend, your bag of gold teeth
Fritz says Bolivia, how about you?
Franz laughs back, somewhere further, that doesn’t stink like your feet
Meanwhile the zombies bedraggled clothes
are already in transit to (CANADA)
Not far from the crematoria
Not that far away at all
Last Train to Auschwitz Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Kai Michael Neumann
15/4/2021
(CANADA) = warehouse and sorting area in Auschwitz.
German RAUS = out, SCHNELL = quick or fast
Remembering the days way back when
Baseball was what made life tick
Lived and breathed that wonderful game
With the Babe, Ted Williams, and the Mick
Jackie Robinson breaking the colour barrier
Sweet memories inhabit my brain
Jackie was the absolute first hero of mine
Brought equality to this time honoured game
Stan Musial, Bob Feller, and Joe DiMaggio
From a much simpler era, these names
When salaries hadn't yet become astronomical
They played for the love of the game
How many remember the powerhouse Yankees
Every year the cream of the crop
They were always a perpetual Series contender
Seemed like the Yanks were always on top
Those days are gone but sure not forgotten
In the recesses of this old mind
Can still see Ted hitting one over the fence
In my mind, it's nineteen-forty nine
© Jack Ellison 2013
‘Twas the night before Christmas with peace all around
Reindeers were sleeping there wasn’t a sound
When all of a sudden a shriek could be heard
Rudolph was cursing, with shocking swear words
Dear Rudolph was always the perfect gent
But using profanities; such anger did vent
Nothing would rile him; get under his skin
So calm and collected, they all said of him
So what had happened to cause this explosion
An inward collapse; an outward implosion
Slowly the reindeers began to awaken
to such profanities never heard before
In their boots they were waiting, all of them quaking
For the only occurrence to instill such behavior
if someone had changed Rudolph’s precious screensaver
Rudolph appeared his face was bright puce
They tried to console him but it was no use
For only one thing could now pacify him
Apart from a whisky or a tonic and gin
To give him ‘Dutch courage’ for his journey each year
Removing all panic, all nerves and all fear
Poor Rudolph was scared stiff of heights
As he flew round the world on Christmas nights
He could never look down, so sure he would fall
leaving all the world’s children with no presents at all
So to watch his screensaver whilst flying above
Was his only salvation for this labour of love
They turned all the knobs; unplugged from the wall
But nothing resolved, it was no help at all
The only solution was to make one last call
Or the kids of the world would all start to bawl
So on this magical Christmassy night
look skywards to see a celebratory sight
For sat astride Rudolph the cream of the crop
our beloved ET in his new Christmas top
With Rudolph now cured of his great fear of heights
Escorted by ET on all Christmas flights
24th November 2018
Competition: The night before
Sponsor: Joseph May
3rd placement
Contest Strand Choice R
Sponsor Brian Strand
N/A
Written By: D. Collins 9/20/19
I'm just ripping and scripting all of this out.
Imagining if I was out there in the crowd.
This poem is written with a little "Bootsy" in it.
A baseline that turns it into a clinic.
"Wayman Tisdale" definitely was nowhere near scrub.
Some bad Mamma-Jammas that I am speaking of.
Hold it right there! I ain't quite finished, yet.
If you heard "Flea" you'd see what I'm getting at.
I'm talking the best in the biz. "The Cream of the Crop."
My man from "Limp Biscuit" certainly ain't no prop.
Ramming "George Clinton" funk all down your throat.
The best of the best. Known all over the globe.
There ain't nothing better than a "Beast Bass Man."
One that can carry us to that "Promised Land."
They can start at the bottom, and go way, out front.
And, when they finally get there, it ain't nothing but funk.
(2/9/12)
Even the best of the best tend to fall
When they lose their faith
They lose it all.
Not many of us will see that guiding light
That sends our hearts into flight.
They say that some are born to preach
And the word of god is easy to teach.
While there are so many others who search in vain
To help relieve the inner pain.
Many think they are better than others
Yet they call us their sisters and brothers.
Which one has the furthest to fall?
This is when Isaac Newton s theory comes into play.
If they both weigh the same , and are dropped from the same height
They will both reach the ground at the same time.
That being the case - why would they think
That they are better than us?
“When in god “ we all put our trust..
Whether we are the best of the best
And the cream of the crop
A base is needed to reach the top.