Long Dorky Poems
Long Dorky Poems. Below are the most popular long Dorky by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Dorky poems by poem length and keyword.
Petite five-pound Yorkie;
mother nature is full of small surprises, he's
scant dorky.
Mind of his own,
always so hungry, gnaws on his
dull bone.
Wind howls,
Tator, my whizz,
growls.
I wish my small Yorkie
could talk, instead, demands with his
growls.
4/11/2021
Poetry Contest: A Pet Minichu
Sponsored by: Mohan Chutani
6-12-3 ......4-8-2..... 2-4-1..... 6-8-1
6-12-3 ......4-8-2..... 2-4-1..... 6-8-1-
aba cbc dAd …. a,b,d third line
Minichu format: Total 12 lines (4 stanzas of 3 lines each)
Rhyme scheme: Aba, cBc, dbD, ABD.
4th stanza consists of repeat of: 1st line of stanza 1, 2nd line of stanza 2, and 3rd line of stanza
3. Syllable count : Stanza 1: 6,12,3, Stanza 2: 4,8,2, Stanza 3: 2,4,1, Stanza 4: 6,8,1
In the realm of comic book tales
There's a town called Riverdale
Where Archie Andrews hangs out with his friends
Riverdale High is the school they attend
Archie's best pal is Jughead Jones
He's the guy with lazy bones
Then there's dorky Ethel Muggs
She's got a crush on Jug
There's Dilton Doiley, he's a nerd
And "DUH" is Moose's favorite word
Reggie seeks Veronica's affection
But seems to be in love with his own reflection!
Betty is the girl next door
Archie is the one that she adores
Veronica is the spoiled rich girl
Who wants to rock Archie's world
---
5 -23-15
Neither family nor scant friends twill mourn
severance outlook linkedin inextricably forlorn
accursed psychological agony since I got born
incessantly pilloried courtesy bullies hood scorn,
yours truly convenient scapegoat raked over hot coals
preferable versus insidious,
malicious, nefarious, opprobrious
querulous, ridiculous, salacious...
suffering post traumatic stress disorder wartorn
invisible battle scars branded me, yet well worn
shell shocked comfortably numbed skull
(just another brick in the wall)
jimmied heavily inebriated distilled, cracked corn
trumpet silenced (think) muted horn.
Anger at self wells up
regarding passive stance (mine)
convenient akin to jellyfish,
and/or crustaceans without spine
essentially a dorky nerdy wimpy kid
i.e. faulty genetic design
unsure if attributable to Capricorn zodiac sign
essentially allowed, enabled and provided
easy excellent access akin to scavengers to dine
bitter draughts synonymous quaffing quinine
bobble headed, I
meekly, grudgingly, admittedly opine
figuratively forced down gullet - nein
letup liberally heaped upon
courtesy 20/20 hindsight, a tangential pact
with Sue S. Side, promising starvation diet
package deal plus absent I, cant see
(now a tan - gent) unwittingly did cosign.
Nirvana protégé podcast/youtube
phenom quite mature
talented young lass promising future
media attention did capture
overnight starlet exhibits bravure
generates profuse nonstop
outstandingly positive conjecture
nine year old greeted in France bonjour
mademoiselle so innocent and pure
guaranteed future success
near anonymity one day
household name the next,
automatic fame secure,
whose beautiful swarthy
complexion compounds allure.
Courtesy technological tentacled
trappings everywhere
twenty first century raw
talent discovered anywhere
across world wide web
instant cash cow bajillionaire
clinched record deals guaranteed
linked immortal wealth crystal clear
financial woes never nightmare
flush electronic deposits buffer
sudden renown claim heir
reddit teary boosting
quantity kith and kin here
rilled predictable feigned
interest to care,
when yesterday no hoots given
toward young person's welfare.
Such simplification possibly doth err
grossly inaccurate, I aver,
rushed prediction unfair
nonetheless interesting how
forgotten friends and relatives spur
unexplainable long
atrophied well timed flair
to buttress crumbling complex edifice
long forgotten grudge doth disappear
tangentially madding crowd
metaphorical boatload relative
strangers ferried jostle appear
amazingly enough out thin air
human nature inexplicably fickle
another case in point here,
when yours truly did not roundly square,
among classmates nasty glare
but triangulated, threatened, teased...
convenient token (non smokin')
scapegoat bullies throve to scare
name calling, spitting, suckerpunching,
a curse this then skinny, puny, dorky...
boy never did dare
raise his non hazardous dukes fear
ring being clobbered, pureed, whipped...
perhaps thugs menacing scissoring my long hair
passively internalized deplorable angst.
Huddled under the Northern Michigan
Umbrellas
Popped open
With cherry bows of pink blossoms
Is our little family cabin
Not so much
Made of brown brick and mortar
Glued pounded and squared together
In the 1950s
But placed on a slab of summer sun
Face up
Shining on the tiffany tiles of Torch Lake
Built of stacked bunk beds
Ten of them
Hammered together with dad’s hands
Oiled with homemade lemonade
Poured by mom
To our baby bird mouths
Through the windows framed with leftover straw
Yes, the screen door still creaks on its rusty spring
Like a dorky doorbell from Father Knows Best
I can feel our newer neighbors salivating
With plans to expand their estates
From an upcoming fire sale
Every year they ask
How’s your mom and dad?
I douse their speculations with a quick “Great!”
But I know
And they know
Time is not on their side
I suppose we could sell to Chicago millionaires
Right now
Cash out
Like all the other generations around us
Replaced with vanity mansions of 30 or more barren rooms
And their manicured lawns poisoned with fertilizer
Dimming the lake each year to a darker shadow
Of itself
But I love our red wheelbarrow
And the cobwebs of the Milky Way
Swaying in the dusty corners
The rusty nails of our fights and screams
And wrestled nights with no air conditioning
I get up in the morning
Step over the fierce glare of sunrise
And the carnage of my folks
My brother and sister
And all those barracks of snoring kids
We will hold out
And hold on
To this sliver of light and water
If you don’t mind
Please
To wait a bit longer
Until we’ve completely and utterly finished
And then all this can be yours.
I gotta n itch) Lenin, where alien archeologists
from outer limits of the twilight zone unearthed
(com) bust stubble rubble yes likeness of Guy
Richie Rich Noir, whose couture, the best skid
row wardrobe.
He sported longish wavy (fluffy when washed
once every fort McHenry night), which character
wrist ticks evoked Chaplinesque down on his
luck Dickensian doddering dude, who cast an
immediate vagabond er dishabille, he happened
to be plenti none the poorer and ranked near
top Facebook listing of Forbes Plenty Of Fish
list, and whose trivial pursuit with flickr ring
idea to GoLong.
As a poet by fashioning his adversity into discord
ant clumps of clichés, facsimiles, idiomatic limply
mixed metaphors in a per verse manner reflecting a
discombobulated egghead delivered an ova night
fashionable fame, though syrup prize zing lee met
with profound success, and bore fruit of the loom
(one of his countless “FAKE” offspring’s begotten
unbeknownst to him iz this schlepper) constitutes
this blimey dorky and fluky guy, whose weakness
when communicating about extemporaneously usually
leaves the reader like totally tubularly confused like
ha cool and totally tubularly groovy man.
Way Back When Lingo! (Slang from the 1970's)
The '70's were way back when,
Once we were young,
the 70's had just begun...
There were hits that were around,
when we were all closer to the ground...
I was a dorky classroom teacher,
Like being a gross lay preacher,
For all the little chicks and dudes,
Who had to sit on it in primary school,
"Get real!" I'd say to them,
They answered back, "Ahem,
Up your nose with a rubber hose!"
When I'd asked them to write some prose.
They were in my face all day,
Can you dig it? Then they'd say,
"Dorky, don't chuck a spaz,
We're really not that bad.
Keep on truckin', Art is groovy!"
Didn't have a VCR for movies.
"Maths is sick!" they'd shriek,
"We're not perfect little geeks!'
"Awe, sooky sooky la la,"
I'd say, "Extra homework, ha ha ha!
Right on, looooking gooood..."
"Dream on, dorky, there's the bell!"
"Good night, John boys!" I'd yell.
"That's sick!" "Catch you tomorrow."
Hometime was no sorrow.
"Catch you on the flip side,"
As they ran outside,
"Don't go bananas at us!!!!"
Now we're old, why did I fuss?
Once we were all so young,
When the '70's had just begun.
He was the most basal, nasal
Bottom slowest, lowest
relative in their family, Jess Mamily.
They were fearful and tearful,
When his parents brought him to Sunion Reuion
He was dorky, dinky, odd, a clod.
Don’t play with him, said the Suion cousins, there were dozens.
So he sat alone, writing a story, penning a poem, a friendless gnome.
His penning paid off, he wrote a killer of a best seller.
He made two hundred thousand, maybe a few dollars more.
For the Jess Mamily the public knew was adored by the ten score.
The cousins began to knock on his notoriously famous door.
But he did not open it, remembering their mistreatment of him.
A Sunion Relative, but shunned no more.
On the Mamily size, Jesse had an always sweet cousin, Jim.
Not thirty four, not even a dozen, only Jesse and him.
This cousin was embraced by him and he shared his wealth.
Their friendship firm, both happy with monetary health.
Growing my hair down below my knees...
stimulated courtesy follicles,
where Coconut, Olive, Grapeseed,
Jojoba, Amla and Vitamin E oils
allowed, enabled,
and provided head start
germinating peach fuzz into brown strands
after Flaxseeds, Pumpkin seeds and Fenugreek
being sprinkled on my scalp
yielded a bumper crop of hirsute weeds
occasionally tripping me up
analogous to hallucinogen
causing a public health hazard
warranting, necessitating, and goading me
to give shout out for stylist
to tender mine lovely brunette locks,
which might be repurposed into a wig
for patients undergoing chemotherapy,
or afflicted with alopecia,
(the partial or complete absence
of hair from areas of the body
where it normally grows; baldness).
As a knobby kneed, puny,
scrawny, wimpy kid whose,
(back in the nineteen sixties),
his parents decreed their singular
(painfully shy dorky, geeky and nerdy)
old school boy who sported a buzz cut,
which found him reacting and responding
(in short order rebelling)
passive aggressively by
refusing to bathe
until mommy dearest demanded
(well nigh upon
the bewitching hour of midnight)
to witness her son soaked
and essentially marinated
(until my skin shriveled like a prune)
in the (clawfoot) tub
lest he stink to high heavens,
and given a serious dressing down
by the timely principal Mister Clock.
Far back as I can remember,
the significance of hair
assumed an outsize role,
whether enviously eying other lads
their thick straight hank,
or nowadays bristling
with self reproach
cursed with thinning
greasy limp strands
(interspersed with gray)
experiencing shame being seen in public,
a disgrace to our family name of Wagstaff
and an embarrassment
to the human race
ofttimes associating
myself with Samson,
whereat emotional, physical,
and spiritual strength
rooted (pun intended)
within each hair shaft
(the visible part of the hair
that sticks out of the skin),
and rooted in the skin and extends
down to the deeper layers of the skin
surrounded by the hair follicle
(a sheath of skin
and connective tissue),
which is also connected
to a sebaceous gland.
If asked to define the word “dorky”
I guess I'd describe it like this
Wearing stripes and checks together
A sight you surely can't miss
I'm not the ultimate style leader
But at least I do have some taste
Aside from an occasional style faux pas
At times when I dress in haste
Never be seen in horn rimmed glasses
An extreme example of dorkyness
White Adidas with black knee high socks
Now that's really hard to digest
When mom gets really behind in her chores
Hasn't washed my coordinate attire
Forced to wear stuff a little bit dorky
Not something to which I aspire
If asked to define the word “dorky”
Usually try to describe it like this
Stripes, checks and horn rimmed glasses
An example of ignorant bliss