Long Daft Poems
Long Daft Poems. Below are the most popular long Daft by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Daft poems by poem length and keyword.
For three little pigs,
there was no wolf,
no house of twigs,
no huff, huff, puff.
Just three little pigs,
all far too daft,
all far too thick,
and far too fat.
These three little pigs,
all from the woods,
set sail to where,
a statue stood.
These proud little pigs,
set up their shop,
in New York’s square,
beside the dock.
These bright little pigs,
in old new York,
did find themselves,
'most wanted' pork.
These scared little pigs,
did not realise,
the US fondness,
of pork pie.
These lost little pigs,
frantic to hide,
from Christmas ham,
and bacon fries.
These poor little pigs,
now far too late,
all far too slow,
to escape their fate.
These warm little pigs,
beside the fire.
Happy ending no?
There situ dire.
These sweet little pigs,
now roasted ham,
caked in sauce,
like minty lamb.
For three little pigs,
it was the end,
no golden gates,
nor eulogy penned.
02/12/2021
Most of my dreams are quickly forgotten; but this one I keep rehearsing.
I'm not an interpreter of dreams, but there's a certain direction I'm leaning.
My dream was about a long black snake whose type I could not determine.
I know next to nothing about snakes except maybe the venomous rattling kind.
Anyway, I killed this snake(or so I thought), and threw him in a trash bin.
I felt relieved and very proud of myself and began to walk away; but then! That was when my eyes bucked and my mind went, "O My God! He's not dead!"
I then attempted to kill him again, but he was too quick, slithering away instead.
11022017 PS Contest, Surreal And Daft, Kevin Shaw
Spirited meeting, don't faint
Real or surreal, it is momentary, as cannot stay long on the same plane
Want to protect from mirthless life's winding chimes
Only if it was easy as mending the book's spine
Rarely lurking demons underneath the bed
Don't waste yourself peeking beneath the bed
Blindfold daydreaming,lines you up to heaped relics of unsung martyrs in a sepulcher
Starkly outshine rabid prince makes shy away the vulture
Never be too soft or daft
Not completely at fault, for programmed specimen of the mightier craft
Amidst the bantering on lease
Just don't succumb to the whisper of inherited guilt please
In summation to any wrong answer
Even rustling waft of your ashes will be sneezed at
Don't plug out the sound of closing doors
Sign to focus on the right one just designed for you
Betide as it was destined
Brush frivolous talk aside as choice is destiny's invoice
Essential to periodical diuresis of precarious enslavement
Rejoice to all sensations, before obfuscated by life's retirement
I went to a huge gift shop for handcrafts
I brought my naughty five year old niece, Raft
Leaving my home by car in a rush
Made me forget to wear my eyeglass
I bumped into one of the clear glass doors- so daft!
My niece, so little but had lots of hearty laugh
To my embarrassing bump better than gaffe
I carried her to an ice cream corner
Yet, I couldn’t control her laughter
‘Til a scary mascot came close with a toy giraffe.
The sixth time I joined a group tour of teachers
I wore dark sunglasses despite the gloomy weather
Passing around bags of snacks in the bus
First were sweets then a plastic for trash
I’d fumbled at the later and got a chocolate wrapper
My friend who sat beside me kept on laughing
So proud of the new sunglasses she’s wearing
When we alighted from the bus
I assisted her as if we’re in class
Miscalculated our steps, we ended up screaming.
Jan 27, 2022 8:51pm
Funny Memories
Contest Judged: 1/28/2022 12:00:00 AM
Sponsored by: Natasha L Scragg
Place 3
The challenge... to write a whole load of sh*te
No sense and no meaning, no thought waves to fight
Don’t think it, don’t plan it, don’t jot down a draft
Don’t worry that what you write might turn out daft...
Well, me and a teddy had been going steady
And when she was ready she yelled Gee up Neddy
That bear didn’t care, that we were a pair
Although she was there wearing no underwear
A fellow called Keith slipped her a leaf
To cover her tummy and what lay beneath
She growled that’s not funny, then choked on her honey
I hope I inherit all of her money
So this might be sh*tty, it may not be gritty
And if you don’t like it, well, that’s just a pity
For, yes, I have written some garbage for you
But that’s what the sponsor has told me to do
2 January 2021
For Contest: Just Thinkin
Sponsor: John Lawless
When I listen to Eminem I purr at his work,
it perks me up.
I'm then lured to write some words
and create a new verse,
that's rife without purpose.
No clichés are surplus,
and I've no nerves on the surface.
It's just an urge that occurs
wanting me to nurse to life a rhyme
as my digits tingle and fidget for playtime,
ready to mingle, in the meantime my brain feels no limit.
Set out in a stride that flows like the tide under bridges,
with a strive to blow minds and entangle sublime rhymes,
that I interwine between the lines leading in time
to a chorus that I hope to be glorious.
Set with the wind in my sails
and a drive that supplies the hammer and nails,
that wield together a motorised thought weapon,
with a complex that threatens,
to propel me like witchcraft
as I spell to fast
with the sails at full mast,
catching wind that's pushing this raft
and blasting through my mind as I draft
both good and daft rhymes.
Which seem easy and slide through peasy,
thanks to the greasy ease of a motion that doesn't freeze,
but travels at crazy speeds that please me.
It's not the work of a degree,
it just gives critics and plaudits a read
that they can witness
with it's dense intense thickness.
I don't care if it's rubbish
it's not written to be published.
I just like how my left hand smudges the ink,
as there's no time for it to dry as I rapidly think.
I just let it flow
and I know
like the tip of my nose
or the nails on my toes,
that it's simplistic
and explicit,
no need to be drastic
and complicate it.
I just like to glide like a cable car ride
because I'm able that's why.
I just like wordplay and syllables
that prevent the event of me feeling miserable.
It's just a cure that's what it's written for,
just a rhyme to read once and not once more.
“Make something of yourself,” they say
“You need to make yourself known,” they say
“Doing well isn’t good enough,” they say
“Run for every leadership position you can,” they say
“You need to be top dog,” they say
It’s been this way for years now
Enforcing such daft expectations
Thinking it will immortalize you,
Make you an inspirational figure
For future generations,
Turn you into someone
Respected by all
Operating under a fragile conviction
That they are molding you
Into somebody special,
Somebody who will have
Wealth and recognition,
Marble busts in foyers
Fancy portraits above fireplaces,
Somebody who will be
An untouchable,
Godly legend
Of utter and untold greatness
Why can’t they see it?
That for some of us,
It is a total impossibility
To reach such a status,
A status which places
Your name,
Your face,
Next to those
That western culture
Holds sacred above all others
Why can’t they understand
That some of us
Can easily get along
Without having power,
That some of us
Merely yearn for nothing more
Than a decent living,
A peaceful existence,
An ordinary life?
When will it be known
That some people
Do not desire
Fame and fortune?
When will they learn
That for some of us,
It would simply be
Too much?
Where do you think is the best place to drink & pints clink with a nod and wink to George Orwell..
Ruse how do you choose your “Moon Under Water”
Tricky like picking between your own son & daughter
Orwell did reckon draft stout must beckon or porter
Not daft posh nosh supper places in Upper Slaughter
Holler for each blue collar scholar as this is their altar
Beacons of blushing bricks laid memory made mortar
Rugs hug stark stony slabs hops grabs beams dark
Tobacco treacle tones taints paints dreams we hark
Past embers spark cast gleams last wafts drift & lark
Same timeless fickle timber timbre tickles each fitting
Eases the blues folks flitting from their pews wits pitting
Shackles & hackles lose cackle crackle in flames spitting
Adored names amuse maraud the muse frames all sitting
Envelops smorgasbord horde games develops unwitting
Sublime times past their prime couldn't be fraughter
Pub co scams so many go just lambs to the slaughter
An inn to be the hub it oughter in Moon Under Water
No not that taunt of some expat haunt out in Malta
Ingredients nestle don’t wrestle in pestle & mortar
Can’t really falter a dearly loved pub's clearly ripsnorter
Planet in flux…it sucks
No refuge..Scrooge rules..
Stooges subterfuge deluge..
Fossil fuel fools..
Poleaxes..then relaxes…
As the earth burns..
As it turns..on its axis..
***************
Us schmucks battling....
Puzzling...prattling clucks...
Aloof to proof....daft defiance..
Shucks the sleuth of science..
**************
Glower at their ivory tower..
Cruise ship trip fillip..
Dour baby boomer power..
******
Absurd herd..cans compliance
Uncouth trampling truth..
Nip & tucks alliance..
Mottled rucks…throttled petro bucks...
Plucks for retro reliance..
*******
Muzzling…weasel hatchets meddling...
Diesel guzzling trucks..
Saluting high falutin polluting
Pander to propaganda pedaling..
Ratchets up our dander…
Open the ruddy window!
Have a bloody gander!
Used to be we'd pay to see freaks on the carnival way.
Now, for free at the mall we can see some most every day!
Kids (and adults) with tattoos, purple hair, nose and eyebrow rings,
Navel rings, tongue studs and other self-mutilating things!
Now, of course, we didn't do such things six decades ago!
Our parents would have disowned us - besides we had no dough!
Sure, guys wore zoot suits with baggy pants and chain.
I just can't comprehend today's modes, they seem so arcane!
Gals wore battered saddle shoes and one of Dad's old shirts,
With tails flapping in the breeze over their poodle skirts!
They wore bras (or so I'm told), hair coiffured with bangs,
They didn't bare their navels and hang out with rowdy gangs!
It's hard to discern who is who when viewing them from the aft.
Two long-haired kids, holding hands, and acting rather daft!
Is it the "he" on the right or is "he" the one on the left?
It's none of my concern, tho' it does leave my curiosity bereft!
I suppose it's all the rage to let the kids do their thing,
While they're young and carefree, let them have their fling.
I'll roll my eyes and shake my head, looking on aghast,
Wondering what's next after these current fads have passed!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
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