Long Creaming Poems
Long Creaming Poems. Below are the most popular long Creaming by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Creaming poems by poem length and keyword.
Girls in bikinis, how gorgeous they look
Kids ice pops melting, dripping on the sand
People sat in deck chairs reading a book
Happy young couples walking hand in hand.
Waves gently lapping upon the sea shore
Dads building sand castles, show how its done
Moms creaming the kids so they are not sore
Grandparents watch their families have fun.
People on smart phones capture memories
Azure skies, swimming and of course the sun
Bright parasols flapping with the sea breeze
Some joggers on the sands out for a run.
Get down to the beach along side the sea
Create for yourself some fond memories.
Written on 7th July 2018.
Privately educated, privileged backgrounds .……no problem per se …….…but ......we're led by these plum in mouth toffs by the troughful.…... their snouts in the pockets of the electorate, creaming the real workers of cash for taxes .…....so long as they're okay with backhanded deals and offshore accounts, their empathy remains as real as a cuboid moon.
Distrustful dinosaurs with prehistoric rhetoric....... and arrogance beyond belief .......they give the people grief. Arguably their role is to be unpopular..... no reflection of the real people, no microcosm, no cross section, no true representation of us compounds their ability to irritate.
This is politics in full swing, full of stuck up d*cks and silly twerps in tailored shirts telling us how to vote. When can this change to a real democracy? ........Real parties talking real issues with real solutions with real taxes spent on real things. The equilibrium is unbalanced, the donkey jacket came and went ......now we're left with just the donkeys, more mules to carry the weight of their own egos.
We have the right to vote.....we pride ourselves on this democratic right...but this is looking through the rose tints.….I only have the ability to vote for different shades of beige....unless I want to become a part of an extremist, sensationalist mob.….I don't.... I just want a real choice of real people..….so for now my ballot card will remain a useful piece of cardboard.... to fold and prop up the wonky leg on my dining room table.
THIRD WORST CLATTER OF ANTIMATTER
clatter of antimatter
alien dishes splatter
(the shape of spaceships)
his antennas* whir with rising
he considers going wireless
a dish flying at warp speed
like a zillion cyclonic bats
(female Vogon shriek encapsulated by rage)
the creaming of eggs
the earth took a beating
(local yokels evaporating)**
the pounding of this poem
pretty bad prose
destruction of the first and second worst verse
because everyone knows a Vogon
must clink and clank
on its dink and dank typewriter***
the third worst clatter of antimatter
mama Vogon whisks their deadpan bottoms
if you think your kids make noise
you’ve never heard a Vogon cry
D…o….n, well f…i…n…i…t,
Fingers smack on each key, pounding little hammers.
Zip..(return carriage)
How oh how did those earthlings type with these
Zip…(return carriage)
But this is rather priceless after earth’s fiasco
3/7/2017
Shadow Hamilton’s The Noise contest
*American television show depicted a martian with antennas
that would rise from his head “My Favorite Martian”
**Local yokels – an inhabitant of a particular locale
***Everyone knows that a Vogon doesn’t know the “meaning”
of the Universe (or words for that matter)
The Last Donut Temptation
David J Walker
A thousand donut shops
Greet me on the street
I see them on the way
To anyone I meet
I smell their frier frying
I can tell their bakers bake
I see their cream puffs creaming
I see the cinnamon shake
I know their glazers glaze
Their long johns twist and swirl
My eyes glass in a daze
As I watch their cruller curl
I can taste the fine white powder
Shaken on the top
Of every sprinkled donut
Every chocolate drop
It makes me twitch and twitter
If I am in the store
And a fresh hot apple fritter
Tells me I need just one more
I plead for divine intervention
A pray sincere and quiet
Save me from temptation
And this stupid cursed diet
. T ulips coated in dewy waxen gloss
U ndulating their warm fragrant breath
L eaving - that cold hearted Mr. Frost
I n a
P uddle of tears
S creaming - Spring is here!
~~~~~
Elaine Cecelia George, of Canada
Written: April 11, 2011
For: Carol Brown's contest - Spring Flowers
Awarded: First Place
Eureka of Archimedes was part of his daydream,
Thomas Edison nurtured his dream in bright light like gleam;
Could sleep ever overwhelm Alexander Graham Bell,
Till he heard the noise from the other and fell in a spell...?
George Washington Carver, who found in peanuts and soybeans,
Utilizations, like treasures, hidden abundant gleans;
Eli Whitney's constant daydreams gave birth to cotton gin,
That separated seeds, hulls and wastes; hearts of all did win...!
Johannes Gutenberg’s innovative printing machine,
Or John Logie Baird's mechanical television sheen;
Benjamin Franklin's lightning rod and the iron furnace,
Or Henry Ford's ventures into automobile sternness...
No invention has found its sphere devoid of day-dreaming,
This should be coalescence of action-vision creaming;
Together with concentration-shift toward internals,
Should bring forth spiritually resonant externals...!
21 November 2022
Don't Quit Your Daydream Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: craig cornish
Constellations condensed! Milky-Way manifested!
Wizardry, like Aladdin lamp, timely tested!
A mini animal kingdom: Great! Mild and wild!
Zodiac zone is puzzle of senile-smile piled!
Centered on greatest light-giver, the sun's movements,
Creaming the birth-death layers with sun-moon complements;
Adding stars to them like salt to delicacy,
Or sugar or honey to fresh juice fallacy...
Pleasing pure personality pearls of persons,
Like fine film fares, full of fancy fragile fashions;
Pulsating movements, like the heart-beat, so rhythmic,
Convincing humans to move toward the cosmic...
Ego, though glittering gold, dares determine,
Goals gearing and motivating dire discipline;
Emotions, habits and cultures grandly blending,
Like wheels of cart harmoniously suspending...
Mother earth; life-giving water; infinite sky;
Cleansing fire; and air the preserving breathe nigh;
It's incorporation of all five elements,
Yet there are, like bones in flesh, split psychic movements…
Zodiacs, like weather-cocks, once did indicate,
Season's surges and formidable farmer's fate;
Zodiac zone is a world great with all fullness,
Each creature has its birth chart in its sea-vastness...!
04 December 2021
''Z'' Contest, New or Old - Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Constance La France
Feeling on my booty, ooh I think he bout to eat the coochie.
He is rubbing and kissing me damn, I love how he is gripping me slowly, Hands all over me I'm ready have his baby.
Lips on mine he likes how I whine.
Dripping wet while he is hitting it from the back, feeling his sweat drip to my ass crack.
Damn, he put my legs behind my back, and I didn't know how to act.
Got on my knees as it's my time to please...
Yes baby! He screams!
Up and down, I go yeah Lemme deep throat aye now I'm the goat...
Spit don't swallow and I don't choke
Heavy breathing yea he notices me
Throw it back he loves that smack that ass daddy yea it's a phatty
I smile I say it loud I'm cumn daddy
As he pounds harder, I moan even louder making him finally release
Now we go to bed and wake up next morning to repeat.
Nasty nasty go deep
I swear he be digging in me, making me weak in the knees his body I must always please
Lay down Lemme ride it give him them Meghan knees
Spin round on the "D" now he yells oooh weee don't stop doing that sexy.
I'm bouncing up and down hell yeah, I'm wearing that crown, yeah now that's mine
I got to claim it maintain it now we back at it he licking the clit making her all wet and
Ite that's it he got me creaming and screaming.... Ok so I was dreaming...
Wet dreams do exist.
A fragrance drifts. . .
haunting like forgotten, formless souls,
a swift remembrance-bearing wave
cresting on the ship-blank sea.
Somewhere in those pearl studded waters you linger,
your gentle laughter echoing,
sounding ripplets on the pebbled beach.
Another breeze, foreign scent bearing,
and our fleeting dance is forever gone;
how strongly the sense of your presence
escaped from the past's closed door.
A beam of sanded driftwood, limb stripped, lies stranded
just beyond the reach of creaming foam,
home hungry, like a memory once loved but since discarded,
set free but afraid to roam.
Copyright, September 3, 2014
Faye Lanham Gibson
mother carey’s chickens scream
as they slide just above wave height
following our creaming wake
as we plough forwards on to night.
there is a peculiar type of silence
in that dark not dark out here at sea
more of a reverenced muted hush
as the stars break suddenly free
to pinpoint the arched non darkness
as the waves break and hiss
rolling surely around our hull
like a mother’s all embracing kiss
and the water seem to beckon me
tempt me but mange somehow to fail
night after night calling to me
as I press hard against the rail
and mother carey’s chickens
heel and glide and swerve around
joining their soulful calling
to the other oceanic sounds
and in the enclosure of the night
midway to the approaching morn
I can understand a call to dying
for it seems far too far to dawn
and the orchestra of nature still
plays its solemn unconcerned air
calling always calling
for you to join it there
there is a certain time when
the will to win that fight
seems to want to ebb away
and then suddenly first light
mother carey’s chickens salute
you’ve managed to survive
yet one more night at sea
and come through it alive
but our voyage is just started
maybe it will prove too long
and I or someone like me
will succumb to the siren song
mother carey’s chickens
role and glide and scream
dive through your sleep
to enter into your dream
it’s all part of fascination
of a life spent on the sea
as though I’m a part of nature
and that same nature’s part of me