Long De rigueur Poems
Long De rigueur Poems. Below are the most popular long De rigueur by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long De rigueur poems by poem length and keyword.
Refined dame with polished frame
Strewing rose petals from lofty pedestal
Sparkling eyes from which stardust flies
Bright smile spindling on embroidered dial
Pallid face shrouded with humble grace
High cheek bones with sculptor's chisel honed
Coiffed strands of hair so De Rigueur
Elegant neck sharing femininity with regal dignity
Voluptuous bosom with silky folds rolled
Roon paps flowing with sweet, sugary saps
Frothy balloon hovering over silted cocoon
Swiveled hips whose billowy curves in rhythm swerve
Heart-shaped hands from which dexterous tendrils
expand
Long, shapely legs with slithering grooves bathed in silky
lube
Dainty feet whose comely features do entreat
The chipmunks are oblivious
And so, too, are the birds.
I doubt if they would even care
If they could speak in words.
But humans and their calendars,
At least where I reside,
Know Fathers' Day's upon us;
By the rules we must abide.
A card or call's expected
And perhaps a little gift.
It needn't cost a fortune
But should give your dad a lift.
A barbecue's de rigueur
And the drink of choice is beer
To make the masculinity
Of this day very clear.
So here's to all the dads around
With grandpas, too, included.
Enjoy your burgers and your brews,
Though chipmunks are excluded.
The world became broken
The moment words were spoken
An eradicating epiphany
Or perhaps a silent symphony
Life is simply a caricature of death
We're dead with our very first breath
With red tape wrapped around our minds
We're hindered by beliefs like blinds
For in this world there is no haven
Only a fiery pit for the callous and craven
And if I spark a brazen phrase
To light the path through this darkened maze
Perhaps I'll burden your illusion of life
By raising the curtain on a world full of strife
There is no justice for the homeless and poor
Because we wear injustice as if it's de rigueur
This world is just a playground for despair and wars
When corruption and greed are the government's favorite whores
All of my life I believed myself a pacifist
But in reality I was just a manic masochist
With an eradicating epiphany
Or perhaps a silent symphony
The world became broken
When inhumanity was awoken
I became familiar with intriguing chow in the army mess,
Tho' I savored their chipped beef and gravy I must confess!
But some of their culinary efforts left in my mind some doubt,
That my wily recruiter didn't know what he was talking about!
Invariably for lunch and supper much to my dismay,
They plopped a dollop of fruit cocktail upon my battered tray.
The sergeant grinned as he slopped some on my mashed pertaters.
Have you ever eaten fruit coctail mixed with stewed termaters!
The army must've had a surplus of orange marmalade,
And the meatballs would've made a formidable hand grenade!
One never asked about the ingredients in the vegetable stew.
On rare occasions steak was served, but it was tough to chew!
Troopers sat around a picnic table affair and elbows really flew!
Such atrocious language! At Mother's table that would never do!
Signs read, "Take all you want but eat what you took!"
Food dumped in the garbage can could easily upset the cook!
For Christmas and Thanksgiving dinners they put on a spread.
Those I savored but anticipated future meals with dread!
But in todays army "dining rooms", silver and chinaware prevails.
Why! I've heard they serve cordon bleu and even lobster tails!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired (© All Rights Reserved)
This poem pretty accurately describes "mess hall" conditions when
I first entered the Air Force in 1948. As years progressed, things
really improved for the better. They are called "dining facilities" today
and to dine in one is a special treat which I have done several times
since my retirement from the Air Force. It is true "dining" and lobster
tail, cordon bleu, steamboat round and such delicacies are de rigueur! If those foods are
not your thing, there is a soup and salad bar, pasta bar, ice cream bar, hamburger bar
and on and on. The decor compares to any fine restaurant. But I don't
begrudge our men and women in uniform one bit - they deserve the best!!
Suspended Animation De Rigueur Among "Joe King" Six Pack
Yepper, once body functions cease
asper this ole codger,
mere seconds after expiration,
sans existential lease
immortality avails rubbery piece
of flesh christened
Matthew Scott Harris,
the legal mouthpiece
decreed by living will
after organ activity doth cease
immediate measures taken
courtesy Doctor Demento to decrease
any further senescence
till heartening no brainer
preserves jellied rolled masterpiece
wordsmith, meanwhile, I can sublease
these bag of bloodless love bones
done deal, all yours for trifle bro
pittance costing no more
than one Pinocchio
plying attached strings,
yea kinda like ma's yoyo
mine limp fingers needed to pull
performing fetes resembling
dead spindleshanks longfellow
all the while appearing as cheap trick
courtesy super tramping marionette...lo
taking me across world wide web,
where yours truly housed in Tokyo
hotel, never tiring globe trotting
performing one man deadened show
after earning so much dough...
necessity will arise to call tow
truck (mebbe more'n one),
when after bajillion years
would utter whoa
abundant flush with moolah,
a sought after Joe Schmoe
earning hand over rigor mortis fist
pile of money that doth grow
by leaps and bounds - hiho
exceeding penury, when struggling as poet
Cain and Abel to silence
those opposed to Roe
versus Wade, incumbent upon minor woe
awaiting future technology so
rejuvenating lifeless chap easily
mistaken for scarecrow
can carry on camping y'know
whaddya mean...
not to leave ye in suspense
but gotta join grateful dead, and gotta go
Adieu!
Disseminated information...
(perhaps theme broached before, yes)?
(alternate title:The hunger for knowledge)
Whither hearing, vis (ideally,
liberal commentators I adore),
asper "NON FAKE") news,
more than weather, latest sports score
or reading, (yes of course
out loud applying index finger de rigueur
of right hand as pointer)
poetically mentioned once before
ditto via select publications
(oh...alright TIME Magazine, The Nation,
and/or Mother Jones) all of which boar
like a mellow red bull at four
after midnight, nonetheless, who decrees
(hmm... maybe ludicrous to ask courtesy deplore
able basketcase, but inquisitiveness persists
what body electric discriminates furthermore
freedom of what gets published, or
determines permissible broadcasts
made by Federal Communications Commission
allowing, enabling, and providing galore
of choice morsels pollinating
mass media buzzfeeding popular culture
additionally permitting opinions shared by hardcore
investigative journalists, putting life and limb at risk
nonetheless inherent within constitution delimiter
i.e. bureau to censor radical, subversive, more
treasonous than Socialism
with Iron Maiden on tour
must serve as kickstarter
to stifle: tyranny, mutiny,
anarchy, et cetera and shore
up defenses (perhaps in guise of a
reinforced wall) toward those who ignore
codas defining complex edifice of government
trumpeting defiance, uncivil disobedience,
insouciance, et cetera in an attempt to restore
totalitarianism stripping away inalienable
rights of life, liberty and pursuit
of happiness endowed by a smoothbore!
The Devil got the sack last week
He’s feeling at a loss
For several thousand years now
He’s been in charge, the boss
The new man’s changing everything
Hired a whole new team
The place is so much nicer
A more relaxed regime
Red hot pokers up the ****
De rigueur, they are not
Only those that ask, will get
A poker up their bot
There’s been a change of fragrance too
Well, sulphurs so outré
Seems Lily of the valley
Is the order of the day
We’re getting leather sofas, which
Could well be here quite soon
And a squad of decorators
Working hard in every room
Now they’ve fixed the air conditioner
It’s behaving as it should
Hell is rather pleasant
In fact it’s jolly good
So when you pop your clogs
And you’re deciding where to go
Forget the trip to Heaven
It’s much better down below