Long Cutie Poems
Long Cutie Poems. Below are the most popular long Cutie by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Cutie poems by poem length and keyword.
My wife and I were born only a few months apart,
I was older than her...so you know from whence I start.
When I was turning 50 she gave me some grief,
I didn't feel old, yet she teased me with this belief.
"I'll be living with an old man now", she would say,
In her little "cutie pie", "cut-up" way.
I knew I would have to do something to get back at her,
When she turned 50...was the time I waited for.
Those few months of her teasing me I never forgot,
Biding my time for revenge...or so I thought.
The big day came and I had the chance,
To avenge the barbs on which she'd made me dance.
We celebrated her 50th with some friends,
And got to talking about our ages, as those times tend.
I thought I'd be clever and cast out this net...
"I've never had sex with anyone over 50, as yet".
Our stunned little group fell silent and looked at me scantilly,
Thinking of how rude a comment to say...that was for me.
My wife, of course, knew the target to which I'd let my arrow fly,
Broke the silence of the moment, and made this reply...
"Well, I don't know how anyone else here might feel,
But I have had sex with one here older than 50, and it's NO BIG DEAL".
I had no rebuttal then and have had none until this time,
When I could put my perspective of all this into a rhyme.
It's been a brutal 17 years since that night,
When we sparred those few words in our "Age 50" fight.
But from that one chance banter I have learned one thing not to pick,
DON'T CROSS WORDS WITH HER...BECAUSE SHE'S JUST TOO QUICK!!
When did you enter into my life?
Was it when the crying baby in the cradle received a warm hug from her mother?
or was it when the children cheerfully ran home after the school's long bell?
When did you start sharing your creamy thoughts with me?
Was it when the baby nightingale gifted its first tune to the world?
or was it when the cutie caterpillar emerged out of its white house?
When did you take my hand into yours?
Was it when the sun secretly promised to enhance the glory of the earth with its light and warmth?
or was it when the green leaf slipped off its blanket early to get the food ready for its family?
When is that you spoke the words of love to me?
Was it when the love birds passionately kissed under the romantic twilight?
Or was it when the air smoothly carried the anther's pollen to the bed of stigma?
When did you even dare to steal my sorrow bag?
Was it when the mighty mangroves tried to stop the high rising oceanic tides?
Or was it when the fiery tigress generously caressed the lost bear cub?
When did you first kiss my forehead?
Was it when the proud mother rafted through the waters of her daughter's success?
Or was it when the nation proudly turned the pages of its history book?
When did you decide upon being my life mate?
Was it when the word "responsibility" stepped into the world of letters?
or was it when Adam took the onus of Eve in the garden of Eden?
I really don't want to be immersed in ferreting for answers to all these questions.
All I want is to live and be lost in every moment of this togetherness.
Hercules was serenading his sweetie from a wobbly willow chair.
His melodic notes of love swoon floated mightily in the air.
His voice was on fire today, all the females better watch out.
Serenading a sisterly trio – Ms. Meow, Ms. Prayer and Ms. Devout.
What are you yowling about? Asked a grouchy tom name of Pete.
Not ever friends, but he said, “Scoot over! I’ll join you on that seat.”
Hercules wanted to look good incase the beautiful cats looked out.
So, he scooted over, and gave room. Hoping to see Miss Cutie Devout.
Devout is mine, the Tom said, in a confident but territorial way.
That’s when two of the mademoiselles looked out and yelled “Hey!”
Hercules could not sing, he was so irritated by this uncouth fool.
To scrap with him or bite him now might look a bit uncool.
What is your name? He asked the Tom. Hoping it was Mr. Mud.
“It’s Adonis,” the puffed-up tom cat, he was as ugly as chewed cud.
“Hi Adonis!” Ms. Meow said in a sing-song-sort of way!”
“Sing for us?” Prayer asked. “It’s been sad with Ms. Devout away.”
Where is Devout? Interloper interfering cat and I immediately asked.
Toms soon discovered she had eloped last night with Mr. T.J. Crashed.
Crashed! Ms. Prayer and Ms. Meow were looking better all the time.
You can have Ms. Prayer, Adonis said. “Ms. Meow is mine!”
Hello, Sistar Sapio
Can I have a moment of your time?
I just want to express what's on my mind
I would like to know,
Can you go?
Better yet, will you come with me?
To a place where our minds can be free
My dearest, let's just zoom away
Far from here to a place of sagacious interplay
I would love for us to heave way up yonder
To a celestial space where few go and wander
A place where we can talk about 6 protons, 6 neutrons, and 6 electrons
True biology and kemistry, exploring the nature of carbon
You shine like a diamond
Beautifully glistening in my mind
An effervescent erudite
Just bubbling with light
I love the way your synapses and dendrites spark
A beaming light in a world so dark
Well-read, well-traveled and so versed in history
You turn on my love light when you speak about our story
Yes! Your elocution is second to none
Taming tongue twisters like a tornado that has spun
Sapiosexual I'm feeling...
your beautiful mind got me reeling
Your hippocampus is like a bottomless pit...
where loads and loads of information sit
Sistar Sapio, you're such an alluring cutie...
the more I see, the more I want to study
Natural soporific narcotic
Recurrent suicidal thoughts
vaingloriously wend along winding road
within windmills of my mind
(o'er a death cab for cutie weeknd)
yakking, yanking, and yawking zeal
becalming this crash test dummy rolling
stone temple pilot inxs
of maroon 5 plus decades long
perdition hellaciously slogging
slow as adam and the ants,
thru fifty shades of gray's
anatomy common weal
masterly baiting this motley crue (cutting),
beatles browed, beastie boy,
foo fighters kickstart new edition
quickening reo speedwagon treadwheel
outre gee (bee) us, grateful dead,
mailer daemons inhabit
cavernous fist size vastness steel
via herbie hancock (hermans hermits)
cheesy munster trap doors that steal,
deep purple swiftly tailored
culture club members squeal
hosted by megadeth
pack rat boston for real
venue at tokyo hotel,
via en grave invitation
signed by alice in chains poison huss kiss
sing, which will spellbind
once contents unveiled,
an instant jane's addiction peal
immediately choking off air supply
then alice cooper egging bad company
to hypnotize the guess who sacrificial meal
supplanting raw
primal scream from spinal tap
acquiescing self to abandon all hope,
especially if black sabbath joins
creedence clearwater revival
dark shadows would demand one
(to take a knee) and kneel
before sacrificing oneself
at the beck and call
of evanescent nirvana
experiencing permanent relief,
sans soul (twisted) sister riding a hansom
off phish hull heart shaped coffin
ample room enough for blind
melon collie 10,000 maniacs,
their healing powers profusely emanating
via m&m shaped talking heads
methinks averring obeisance
to judas priest and hooters
with metallica linkedin with mötley crüe
coldplay feeling of eternal sleep,
where quiet pussy riot
joins carpenters, whose underground
bunker with golden arches
resembles empyreal
heavenly vault wreathed soundgarden
with electric light orchestra
sepulchral crowded house indicative
cynthesis iz done on a green day,
whereat dizzy gillespie afterlife deal
and you bet your sweet bippy meme,
an extra bonus for orthodox believers
(absent myself - a skeptic),
whose karma credit Suisse
with long deceased meatloaf
with soul asylum and heart to anele!
I am a man who breathes
A man who believes
In the whispering of trees
And in the buzzing of bees
Sailing across these oceans seas
The wind in the words to receive
As I listen to the breeze
This is what I perceive
The light itself
It exist within its self
Sitting upon a book shelf
These words sting to health
The cry for land and its wealth
Look what you’ve done to yourself
Look what we’ve done to our self
Living, I explain myself
Even though it may sound quite looney
As I look up at the full moony
The hooting of an owl does do sound groovy
Staring at this ruby
A magnificent treasure not just a bootie
Yea, she has such a nice round smoothie
Dare I even to say, that indeed it is magnificently beautiful cutie
Darling be my Lucy
Two souls searching ?
Inspired by a writing from my sixteen year old Daughter
This old man, sits in the shadows of his life’s plan,
this fading shadow, of what once was a man !,
who’s life’s colours, his aura are not but shades of gray
that come in, and seem to fill his every day.
And then, black shades he doth find
in the troubled shadows, in the mind
of his youngest, his black haired beauty,
his ever growing all knowing, big cutie
who’s mold is told, as it sets sound,
after all the rules have been laid down
for this, my dark haired child
who’s dark soul seems so wild
with rage, her soul locked in a cage,
and there seems to be no turning the page.
That book needs to be found,
her soul, her spirit set free,
to know that beautiful sound,
find inner peace, let herself be.
Escape the clutches of doom, find peace
and know just how easy it is to release,
from the deep recesses of her troubled mind,
all she looks for but never seems to find.
That place where she may set free the flames,
get out and get away from the games,
be strong my Dear, and put the fires out
with such glee, be free, and shout.
B. J. “A” 2
February 27th 2001
Lost in a strange Space
A writing by my youngest Daughter,
about a painting she had done of herself.
In honest god truth, I could not really explain,
to you all, what is going on in this painting.
What I can tell you is, the title explains a lot,
because a lot of the time, I am lost in a strange space,
that is so indescribable that I’m not going to try.
The flame I’m holding in my heart represents all
the anger and frustration I hold inside me,
in fear of letting it out, may lead to destruction of myself.
My face is black because a lot of the time
I feel I have no real appearance, just a mind.
The faint yellow around me
represents what little faith I have in my body.
If I could explain, to whom is reading this,
all of what is going on inside my mind
I would, but I can’t, and all I know,
of what is keeping me alive,
is the love I feel for a few people,
and the love they return .
By Melanie
Atfield .
Tring Tring: Is that you?
Yes, my love how do you do?
Hey! I bought a new pair of shoes,
This time my shoe size is two!
Oh dear, you look so cute,
In your little boots!
My cutie son in dungaree navy blue!
A sheath dress, a watch, a ring and a cake for you!
Would you come! Please, make my wish come true!
O my love! My honey, I am always around you.
Close your eyes and feel the breeze,
Come on, let’s play all day through!
Just look into Daddy’s eyes,
We are dying for your sight.
God needed my body,
But my soul is with you.
Daddy’s windshield wiper,
You are the bravest tiger!
Sharp at twelve, we will cut the cake and celebrate.
Be there, don’t make me wait!
Just hug your Daddy tight,
And share the cake’s bite!
Sandwiched in between,
I can feel you two, right!
Mommy, I got to go.
I have to dress up for the show.
Tring Tring, is that you?
Yes honey, I love you, I miss you.
Why did you go……………………………………..
Form:
As raindrops drip from Hostas' long blossoms
The gentle breeze lightly its stem kisses
The clouds gather to give us rain, awesome
Moisture, on these thoughts, my mind reminisces
Lavender blooms show oregano's beauty
Harmonizing Mexican Petunia's shade
Flamboyant color purple dancing cutie
Artistic colorful scene seen in their glade
Spring and summer with colors that delight
Beauty comes to an end; fall offers its own
Pomegranate's red skin, fruit, chaotic bite
Harvest of apples, winter squash, pumpkins grown
Reveal to me, each stage has beauties' offering
Love each stage with joyful praise, life altering
finis'
Cat lights on the table, bling!
Can opener growl to open a tin
Tuna glide pounce for a troubadour sing
Cat stretches full length
A paw to each shoulder
A nuzzle to my neck now bolder
Soft blending purrs, caressing
Soft, slow lane nestling
Solicitous whimsical beauty
Self advertising cutie
Insular world of feline grace
Meal ticket playful embrace,
a no default risk
Like a heart-felt smooch, brisk
Best hope for survival
in scents of sweet revival
when a tin can squeal
is a laurel of love to steal
for a status high creature
curled, contented
in fishy food cuisine.
Poem revised January 31, 2022