Long Dribbling Poems
Long Dribbling Poems. Below are the most popular long Dribbling by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Dribbling poems by poem length and keyword.
Though amply rested, I still yawn
And feel energized after
light exercise doth spawn
break through viz mental impasse,
where endeavor to coax
germinating ideas to sprout
about as successful as
buzzfeeding, jump/kick starting
rooting brown lawn
to whether drought.
Long fostering literary creativity
analogous to prying open
figurative curtain drawn
shut tight within
thy noggin unresponsive
even when brute force
strongly applied, but still...
no progress (for aging Pilgrim)
made come crack of dawn,
thus I temporarily abandon intent.
An effort to craft satisfactory poem or prose,
(which coveted, kindled, unexpected...
futile endeavor deluges me when
least able to jot down eureka,
whereby brainstorm burst adrip
saturating yours truly head to toes
dribbling out nostrils,
asper my porpoise size bottle nose,
hence this feeble effort to appease.
No expected attaboy, kudos, bravoes...
discerning metaphorical whaling expedition
beseeching, imploring, soaking...
mine mindscape with
profuse voluminous wisdom
sans anonymous followers
waiting for me to compose
usual meaningless gibberish or
rare profound nugget of wisdom to disclose.
While thrashing within cyber sea,
possibly abandoning ambition to compose
superbly laced, ginned, coined...
poetic adage gee oh
into magnum opus masterpiece
eye catchingly exotic creation
exquisite as silk negligee pantyhose
(yea...perhaps yours truly
will also send near nude selfie,
a worse fate than death
cab for cutie)
and chuck stock inhibition
brokering favorable frescoes
tattooed across flesh
accentuating anatomical contours of flab
wharf flexing muscles simulates geckoes,
(albeit selling progressive insurance)
appearing to slither across body electric
predictably ejaculating Freudian peccadillos,
now bolt upright - ******** awakened,
no longer sleepy,
but dwarfed by giant spuds,
no small potatoes
eh...yar right to deem this poker face
eccentric - born (free) this way,
how Elsa to explain (without lion)
rambling riotous rumination
one among many bumptious desperadoes,
and oh...mooch hoe gracias reading poem
bumbling, degenerating, fizzling...
into lobbying primal salvoes.
As par and parcel of being
alive wire impossible aye
to maintain totally tubularly
literarily celibate by and bye
with parochial restraint antiseptic dry
as dust poetic refrains
asper this healthy older guy
devoid of physical whim zee
unlike a inscrutable eunuch...so hi
there dear reader experienced
by this self contrived Zen
minded nonestablishmentarian outlier,
whose nonconformist yen
tries to steer clear of controversy,
heresy, prurient wen
unless one happened
to be eunuchized,
i.e. sexless as a cold oven,
but similar to generic men
this writerly hen
pecked husband dully
drumming, droning, and
dribbling as a lix spittle
aged chap housed within
Schwenksville, Pennsylvania bailiwick
though far less inclined
to whet ma lil atrophied dipstick
than some young buck
at the peak of his sexual prowess
every now and again viz,
aye feel a much slighter sensation
drubbing, crackling, and
buckling mine body electric
and attempt to record
re: font ten blue type
boldface and/or Italic
such infrequently occurring
fleeting Johnson magic
speculating why the
hoo ha regarding mystic
spell binding codas,
dogmas, and enigmas,
an integral component naturalistic
within the calculus of life,
when human species
(parenthetically), naturally, inherently,
and biologically opportunistic
akin to other organisms whose quixotic
antics allow NON GMO,
MSG, and gluten free,
and uncensored discussion
asper reproductive habits rhapsodic
with floral and/or faunal symphonic
emanations donning each their own
"NON FAKE" trumpeting
spectacular humbly modest
rubric, yet...universalistic
as being linkedin
within the cosmic whirled wide web.
Think the jollies are starting to return
Told you I wouldn't stay down long
Not those kind of jollies, you naughty people
Thought you might get me wrong
You people, you really should be ashamed
What kind of dude d'ya think I am
I'm quite respectable and live a clean life
But in reality it's all just a sham
Sometimes I'll be hanging from the chandelier
Overcome be these jollies I enjoy
Dribbling and drooling to beat the band
Talk about jollies, ooooh boy!
Sure must be careful at this ripe old age
Not as agile as I once used to be
So if you happen to hear a bulletin on CNN
Man falls from chandelier, it's me!
© Jack Ellison 2013
I talked it over with Glen,
Me sole mate and imaginary friend
He said “Listen here me matey”
“It’s the best way for you in the end”
So as a close friend I took his advise,
And to this day I wouldn’t think twice.
His so cool and calm and collected,
He has my best interest at heart, which is nice,
So if you go to me eBay page,
You’ll see I’m up for sale.
An unwanted used lover,
A blind toothless moon bald male.
Me expiry date is only 10 years out,
With a left leg suffering from gout.
A sex crazed dribbling pervert,
Who chases after every skirt.
A self confessed nymphomaniac,
A practicing megalomaniac.
It’s been a week since the ad
And one bid which I think is from Glen
He says 50 p is reasonable and all his willing to spend
Brian The Veggie Lion
The trackers all dressed in their safari suits
Trekked over plains in their safari boots
In search of an animal that was called Brian
A statuesque beast in the shape of a lion
Skin prickling chills as they sensed he was near
But the park ranger said there was nothing to fear
For Brian the lion had delicate guts
He's now on a diet of pulses and nuts
No need to be scared, no need to be quiet
For Brian is now on a strict vegan diet
As they too were vegan and never ate meat
They made it their mission this lion to greet
For many a day they sought this strange lion
They knew he was close but they couldn't find Brian
At first they were wary that no-one was armed
But Brian was vegan, they wouldn't be harmed
Suddenly, stood there before them was Brian
A truly enormous, formidable lion
He padded around them on monstrous paws
Saliva was dribbling from slavering jaws
Brian then snarled, ‘We get few vegans here,
In fact you're the first I've encountered this year’
He grinned as he muttered, ‘I'm so pleased to meet you,
It's time for my lunch, I'll just have to eat you.’
The trackers all laughed and said, ‘Go on then, try it,
We know all about your strict vegan diet.’
Brian just growled and then got rather vicious
And later he slept...
Vegans... delicious!
It’s going to snow tonight. It seems the brick shoulders of Elm Street will ooze, like watery eggnog, with a light snow tonight and we’re twitching with delight.
The vibes of it are too much and sure, it will just turn to slush, but you know how romance twists reality, snow seems laced with pageantry.
After two snowless winters the light dribbling, like a flirty look or a stolen kiss, will be exciting.
When I chose Yale, I was promised - ok threatened with - cruel winter weather.
I’m going to dance however I want, and if I commit to cruelty, I’ll accept it with all of its honest challenges. That cruel weather never materialized.
We returned to New Haven yesterday to be here - for the snow. Earlier, the wind was blowing in from the sea but hurray! That’s changed.
iPhone Maniacs
crankshaft tendencies secure a brace of sly meatballs
truth daggers entice the worm girls with petite pastas
creature lilacs uproot themselves for pink dippity-do gels
white nylon ghost legs roam outer space in latex leotards
metacarpal syringes find porous outcries in the gloaming
crankshaft tendencies welcome the tilted exonerations
iPhone maniacs fondle frothing bananas mindlessly now
demon spiders ooze inside the crawlspaces wanting meat
cross-eyed priestesses suck on wax candles in the vestibule
black-robed choirs sing hangover music to the dribbling
rock music annihilations played by stoned dudes in shades
temples and taverns shake as the truth daggers hit earth
now the worm girls are dancing with the iPhone maniacs
Anyone can count the seeds in an apple, but only God can count the number of apples in a seed. - Robert H. Schuller
Luscious crimson, amber, falling
Trembling on branches, perfect yarns
Reciting journeys, their calling
Seeds thrown aside while nature darns
Trembling on branches, perfect yarns
Fables and feelings, rustling winds
Seeds thrown aside while nature darns
Blessings eternal, gentling minds
Fables and feelings, rustling winds
Glossy skins need peeling, tasty
Blessings eternal, gentling minds
Autumn swirls its songs so hasty
Glossy skins need peeling, tasty
Scrumptious liquids dribbling juices
Autumn swirls its songs so hasty
Startling bliss without excuses
Scrumptious liquids dribbling juices
Orchard scented with fruity hints
Startling bliss without excuses
Perfumed by autumn’s trailing prints
Orchard scented with fruity hints
Picking between the red and gold
Perfumed by autumn’s trailing prints
Harvest time, striking to behold
Picking between the red and gold
Reciting journeys, their calling
Harvest time, striking to behold
Luscious crimson, amber, falling
The steersman dry-heaves
into rolling scuppers,
the skipper dozes fitfully in his sodden berth
spew dribbling from a tossed piss pot.
The deck is also heaving; for three days
the rain-lashed ship has rode the high waves,
shipping sea into cabins and holds,
wind-torn canvas were carried away,
a shattered mainmast dragging the wallowing hull,
and the storm still growling in the winds teeth.
The crew are battened down and sick,
but sea-chests and dunnage must be stacked
clews, lines, and tackle winched, cinched, or tarred,
rubble and timber hacked and swept overboard.
The nimble must climb gratings,
grapple unhitched rigging, go aloft
to knot and unravel torn nettings
and flying ropes.
Then from a swaying crows-nest
a lookout sees a distant storm gull:
“Sighting! Steer away,” comes a gusty shout.
Now the quick dry throats of boson and bosons mate
roar the crew to their stations.
The clipper shudders, comes about,
foresails backing and filling.
The craft luffs and tacks to race ahead of the gale
following that feathered rumor of hope and landfall.
The ships log narrated all this, and more,
when it surfaced to float in a plastic kiddy pool
somewhere near the Jersey shore.
It is an impressive break up.
The maestro conducts a symphony that
crushes eardrums with locomotive rumbling,
thumping, bumping, and dumping
of large chunks of cracking, crackling
crystalline ice pushing down river.
Hundreds of tons of ice come together –
hopefully without devastation.
It is an environment of change.
In soto voce, soft rippling rivulets,
icicles dribbling, dripping droplets,
the slushing of crusted, melting snow.
Snowshoe hares, squirrels, and wolverine
emerge into full Spring activity.
Mush dogs’ serenades ride the winds,
yipping and campaigning for dinner.
Time to secure Winter’s store of firewood,
move boats and fish wheels to higher ground.
Time to hunt and gather fresh food for stores.
Time to begin restocking fresh meats of
muskrat, beaver, duck, goose, and swan.
Time to rebuild and repair.
Break up –
one of the best times of the year.